


Fireflies, Falling Stars and Forever

by sleepingseeker



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012)
Genre: Camping, Complete, F/M, Family, Family Fluff, Fate, First Kiss, Friendship, Fun, Gen, Humor, Male Bonding, Romance, Spooky stories, family bonds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-10-06
Packaged: 2018-02-04 19:26:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1790482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepingseeker/pseuds/sleepingseeker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set immediately after The Lonely Mutation of Baxter Stockman. As a thank you for reverting him back to his human self, Kirby O'Neil treats Donatello and his family to a weekend at a secluded campground in the Catskill Forest Preserve. Donnie hopes for some quality time with April, but things don't always work the way we wish - and sometimes they're much better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

**Chapter 1**

Splinter surveyed the duffle bags stacked in a haphazard way next to the turnstiles, tucking a flannel blanket and the leg of a teddy bear neatly inside the opening of one, while adjusting the zipper over what was no doubt a wholly unnecessary toolbox in another. He frowned as his hand ghosted over something rigid and sighed deeply as he removed a short katana from the interior of another bag; setting the wakizashi carefully to one side, along with several throwing stars; thinking Leonardo's double katanas would be more than enough weaponry to bring along the trip; and also making a mental note to scold Leonardo for raiding the weapons cabinet when he was explicitly instructed not to open unless gaining permission first. His heart had good intentions, but his son needed to learn that it is one thing to be prepared and to look out for the safety of one's family, but another to allow oneself to become paranoid.

He shook his head, but smiled wryly at the extra weaponry. "My cautious son is a bit too concerned with preparing for danger where there is none."

He decided to take some time out this weekend to speak with Leonardo about balance. He worried that his boy was under too much stress since placing the title of leader upon his young shoulders. He should have anticipated that his serious child would take the title and all its responsibilities with rigid solemnity.

If that wasn't bad enough, Splinter noted that Raphael's bag deflated as he touched it. He lifted it to discover it was empty but for two racing magazines and a can of bug repellant. His arms dropped and he opened his mouth to call for his boy, irritation making his fur bristle. Before he could, his ears flicked as he picked up the distant sound of the O'Neil's entering the lair. He straightened up as April's voice drifted towards him, dropping the nearly empty bag on top of the others.

A warm smile lit his eyes as his gaze fell on the girl walking arm in arm with her father even as a pang of muted envy tainted the edge of it. He banished the shadow that fell across his heart. There should be no negativity this morning nor would he allow any to permeate his spirit while on their trip. This was a time of rejoicing and celebrating reunions; of family made whole; of just being together. But even as he fortified himself with such positivity, the thought that not all of his family were present and accounted for settled like ash in the rear of his mind, causing him to falter in his greeting.

"Hi, Master Splinter!" April called as she released her father's arm and raced to where he stood, hands clasped behind his back as he dipped his head in wordless welcome.

As he raised his head up, her arms went around his neck and he was pulled down into a fierce embrace. He started, hands shooting to his sides, before finally, tentatively, wrapping them around the girl's back, returning the hug. Unused to physical demonstrations of affection, it caught him completely off guard. Raising four adolescent boys had left him without the tenderness that a daughter's regard brought to a father. While Michelangelo was the most unconstrained of his children when it came to expressing his feelings, even hugs from him where far and too few between. It wasn't until now that he even realized that he missed it. Missed it dearly. Splinter closed his eyes and allowed himself to indulge in the moment. Any pain situating itself within the aching cavities of his heart fled in the face of this demonstration of love. He could not help but feel his eyes grow misty. He cleared his throat as April pulled away, smiling brightly at him. The earlier pang of missing someone struck his heart once more. He did his best to ignore it.

"Where's Mikey and everyone else?" she asked and he noticed that in one hand she held a fisherman's bucket hat.

Splinter turned and opened his mouth to indicate the dojo when April brushed her hand through the air. "I'll find them." She skipped around him and down the steps, calling loudly for his sons. "Hey guys. Are you ready to go?"

Her energy affected the very air around her, buzzing with a kind of giddy joy, suffusing the lair with her youthful enthusiasm. Their responding voices filled the room as they hurried in to see her; ringing bright and young and happy to match her own. April held out the hat to Donnie, and his son, blushing in spite of himself, bent down to allow her to place it on his head. He gave an awkward laugh and stepped back as Raph and Mikey pushed forward to talk to her about their plans. Leo's face was alight with anticipation. Splinter stood watching, one hand braced against his heart, still feeling the warm presence of the girl's embrace; listening to the boisterous sound of excited children; feeling it seep into his hidden wounds to act as balm to their aches. His students, his children, where would he be without them?

"I never got a chance to thank you personally," Mr. O'Neil spoke softly from where he stood next to Splinter, watching April being surrounded by her friends. They chattered in escalating elation about the upcoming trip to the Catskill Forest Preserve. It would be the first time they had ever left the city. Kirby was thrilled with having the opportunity to do something nice in return for his cure.

Splinter inclined his head. "This holiday is more than thanks enough, Mr. O'Neil."

"Well," Kirby chuckled, "It's the very least I could do, after what Donatello managed to do for me." He indicated his body with one hand.

The last few months of living as a mutant bat creature had left him with a loss of time, for he couldn't remember much of what had happened while he was a mutant. Existing in that form for so long had taken its toll. But he was recovering nicely. Though he was still struggling a bit at night. He had trouble sleeping due to nightmares filled with strange urges and a hunger that even upon waking remained and had him ransacking the refrigerator in the dead of night; hands shaking; stomach hollow and ravenous. Sometimes April would find him on the roof and he'd have no idea how or why he was there, shivering in the crisp air, gazing blankly out into the inky expanse above with his heart thundering and his limbs trembling with an unknown need. But he could not complain. For he had his life back. His daughter. Everything else would eventually fall into place. He was sure. In time.

"If it wasn't for him, I'd still be lost. I owe him my life," Kirby added, his gaze turning distant and glazed.

A swelling of pride hit Splinter as he considered that the only reason Mr. O'Neil was present in his current, natural form was due to his intelligent son's efforts in creating a retro-mutation. His determination and dedication to aiding April and her father was more than touching. He'd committed himself to a nearly impossible challenge and did not give up until he achieved his goal. While the drive may have stemmed in part from his growing attachment to April, something that Splinter worried about, for his intelligent child had a sensitive heart, Splinter knew that Donatello felt keenly the wrongness of what had happened to the man and had set to right that wrong no matter what it took. A father couldn't be more honored by his son's actions than he was.

That April's father acknowledged his boy's efforts only endeared Splinter further towards the O'Neil family. If April ever found it in her heart to return Donatello's affections, he would be most proud to accept the union. Most proud. He blinked slowly as he stroked the long white whiskers protruding from his chin. Unfortunately, that would be left to fate to decide, and fate had not been kind to his family thus far.

As though making up his mind to keep things light, Kirby clapped his hands together and switched topics, "They're going to have a blast," Kirby smiled and the brightness there was similar to his daughter's. He rubbed his hands together. "I've got the cabins and surrounding grounds booked and it's in the best possible spot. There won't be anyone around for miles."

Splinter nodded his gratitude for the extra precautions being taken for the safety of his family.

Michelangelo's excited cry of, "Well what are we waiting for!?" had them all racing up the steps towards their bags where the two father's stood side by side. Master Splinter's hand shot out and took hold of the top of Raphael's head. He froze.

"I believe you forgot your essentials, my son."

"What?" Raph asked as he flinched under his father's gentle, but firm grasp of his head.

Splinter cocked a brow at him. "Do you plan on sleeping on the bare ground without a blanket? And I believe I asked you each to pack the first aid kit I prepared along with your T-phones in case we get separated."

Raphael sighed and rolled his eyes. "April said they're bringing sleeping bags for us." Splinter said nothing but twisted his hand and Raph spun slowly to face his room. "Okay, okay, I'll go get my stuff," he said and dashed to his room, calling over his shoulder, in all sincerity, "Don't leave without me!"

Splinter sighed, thinking of course they wouldn't. "Kids."

April grinned as Kirby stepped through the turnstiles followed by Michelangelo who wore a battered Yankee's baseball cap on his head turned backwards and Leonardo who cast a longing look at the weapons removed from his bag before ducking his head at the look of soft reproach on his father's face. Donatello, wearing the bucket hat April had given him, held out his hand to help April over the turnstiles, but she just vaulted over the side with a loud whoop of excitement. He recovered from the slight and quickly moved to follow, but got the strap of his bag caught in one of the arms and clumsily tried to free it, only making it worse due to the oddly shaped bulk from his over packing. By the time he'd gotten it loose, Raph was stuffing his blanket into his bag and rushing towards the exiting group. He soared over the barrier, making sure to tag Don once on the top of his head as he went with a hearty slap. The strap dropped from his hands and got tangled again.

"Raph!"

"You snooze, you lose! See ya, Donnie!"

"Hey, I just . . . ugh! C'mon!" He spun around and fumbled with the strap until it finally fell free from the spoke. "Got it! April? Guys? W-Wait for me!"

As he hurried to catch up with the group, he just spotted Raphael's foot as he climbed through the opening of the sewer grate to the street above. He hopped up onto the ladder and climbed as fast as he could to the surface. He popped his head out and looked around.

The neighborhood sat subdued and half asleep so early in the morning. Distantly the sound of traffic reached him. The air hung heavy with a damp promise of a warm humid day ahead. His brothers were getting into a large van. He glanced around and emerged, a smile plastered on his face as he spotted April moving around the back of the vehicle. He hoped he'd get a chance to sit with her sometime during the two to two and a half hour drive to the campgrounds. He'd prepared an entire collection of topics that he could bring up that he was sure would engage her in satisfying conversation.

The giddy rush of happiness that he'd felt since learning that they'd be spending an entire four days with April and her father several days before hadn't ebbed in the least. The hours between learning this wonderful news and leaving this morning had been spent in a haze of anticipation and planning. He'd sacrificed some hours of sleep in the process of planning activities and subjects to discuss, but he couldn't help it. There would be so much time to just be with April. He buzzed with electrified anticipation. He couldn't wait. He turned from replacing the manhole cover, still grinning widely and felt his smile freeze on his face.

"C'mon,  _Purple_ , let's move it! You're holding up the party van!" Casey Jones, arm thrown causally around April's shoulders called out to him. Donatello's eyes zeroed in on her hand braced on the boy's chest and felt his happiness shrink and go out like a puff of ash in a strong breeze.

"Am I right, Mr. O'Neil, sir?" Casey asked over his shoulder to April's father at the steering wheel.

"That's right, son. It's gonna be fun times ahead! Yay for the party vehicle," Kirby chuckled and started the van. Revving the engine once to confirm Casey's point as April closed her eyes and sighed at her father's awkward cheer; she adored her dork of a dad so much. Donatello stood for a moment longer trying to process what was happening. But it was clear. Casey was right. He was detaining them. His clumsy, stupid, clod of a body was slowing the fun down. Donatello forced his legs to move. He gripped the strap of his duffle with white-knuckled strain. He could not stop smiling like a maniac.

"R-Right," he said and scurried to the vehicle, keeping his gaze on anything but April's beaming glow under the punk's arm. Cursing his face for freezing in that rigor mortise state.

"Like the hat. My grandad's got one just like that," Casey said and a burst of laughter erupted from him before being cut off by April elbowing him in the ribs.

Donnie gritted his teeth. "I thought that it was . . . just going to be us," Donatello said with false cheer, doing his best not to sound in the least disappointed or chagrinned at the unwanted teen's unexpected appearance. He glanced into the van to lock eyes with his older brother. Leo gave him a sympathetic look that had the back of his neck heating up uncomfortably. "I-I just . . . just thought, is all."

He cleared his throat and ducking, climbed inside. He sat heavily next to Splinter in the back row of seating. The middle row had been removed and on the floor between their bags sat Mikey and Leo facing each other. Raph had his back propped against the driver's seat, one arm resting on a bent knee. Casey shut the door to the passenger side after April climbed in next to her father and took the seat on the floor right behind her. Donatello looked everywhere but at Casey who was seated directly in front of him.

April turned in her seat as her father pulled out the GPS device and double checked the route they would take. "So, you got the okay from your mom and dad?"

Casey shrugged. He laughed and there was a nervous lit to the edge. "Sure did. Got the okay with my pop and I'm good to go." He glanced at Raph who eyed him then quickly away. He suddenly rose up onto his knees and pounded the roof of the van. "Let's get this road trip goin'!"

Leo and Mikey exchanged glances and April reached out to ruffle Casey's hair. Donatello pulled the brim of his hat down lower over his burning eyes.

"Hey, you'll mess with my carefully executed style."

Raphael snorted and April bounced in her seat. She reached out and turned on the radio. The jangling notes of a pop song filled the air as Kirby pulled out onto the street. Before long Mikey and Raph were doing their best to sing along. Casey began belting out made up lyrics in a loud off-key singing voice that had everyone cracking up.

Donatello jumped as Splinter covered his hand with his own. He looked up into his father's eyes, feeling his throat tighten with embarrassment. He gave him a watery smile and a weak chuckle; hoping to fool his sensei into thinking he was having as much fun as everyone else.

Splinter gazed into his eyes until Donatello, blinking rapidly, looked away. Feeling as though Splinter was seeing right through him.

"Do not fret, my son," he said quietly.

Donatello shot a worried look around to see if anyone had heard him or noticed the comforting but humiliating gesture. Thankfully, Casey was still mangling the lyrics of the current song and Mikey and Raph were trying to outwit him in louder and louder voices, with Leo looking as though this was the coolest thing he'd ever experienced. Donatello sighed.

Thankfully, Splinter removed his hand. He glanced out the tinted window as they sped along the highway. "I feel that time spent in a new location shall be most refreshing. Often with new surroundings one gains perspective."

But all Donatello could see was April's face peering around the seat at Casey, looking at him with shining eyes and beaming, positively glowing, as if he was the most amazing person she'd ever met. He slid lower in his seat and pretended to be asleep the rest of the ride.


	2. Fireflies, Falling Stars and Forever

**Chapter 2**

Once settled in the cabins with Master Splinter and Kirby sharing one of the smaller ones and the children set up in the larger, the one with four bedrooms; with the idea that Mikey and Leo would share a room; Raph and Donatello another, leaving two separate rooms for April and Casey to use, they ventured out into the surrounding woods to explore. Splinter watched them go, standing on the porch, hands clasped behind his back. He took note of Casey and Raph as they literally rolled down the pathway, wrestling for ownership of a particularly large branch or stick or something of that nature, he didn't know.

"Kids," he murmured.

"Tell me about it," Kirby added, watching April following the rambunctious pair, flanked on either side by Mikey and Leo, followed a few steps behind by Donatello. The three friends were speaking animatedly with April gesturing to the trees and pointing down the lane before locking her arms with Leo and Mikey. Donatello continued a few paces behind them, looking meek and uncomfortable. He was reminded of Dorothy heading down the yellow brick road with the Tin Man, Scarecrow and Cowardly Lion surrounding her. It was good to see her surrounded by such special individuals.

"She adores them."

"M," Splinter answered, stroking his beard.

"I don't know how she'd have gotten through everything without them being there for her. It's been a rough couple of years for the O'Neil family." He sighed. "You know, she talks about them all the time."

Kirby moved closer and handed Splinter a glass of fresh made lemonade. He sniffed it as he took it from the man; his sensitive nose crinkling from the intense lemon scent. He sipped a little and relished the bright flavor. One good thing about his transformation was the fact that everything tasted and smelled so much more acutely. Well, it was both a good thing and a bad thing, considering he lived in the outskirts of the New York sewer system with four adolescent boys who were averse to showering with any regularity. Even his best student had at times smelled of composting onions and feet. Splinter shook himself with the memory and took another sip of the citrusy drink.

"I should actually say, she talks about Donatello all the time."

Splinter nearly choked. He composed himself as his eyes watered from the sting of lemonade going up through his nose. He coughed and cleared his throat.

"Is that so?"

"On and on about him. It's like he's all she thinks about. You know if . . ."

Splinter held still, one brow cocked, staring down into his lemonade. Listening attentively for what was to come next. Anxious but curious. Fearful but determined to know what April's father took this to mean and how he felt about it.

Kirby turned to him as the last bit of what he could see of his daughter and her friends vanished behind a rise in the trail. He pinched his brow and stared at the front door, leaning against the porch rail, arms crossed, but dangling his own glass with his fingertips. "If I didn't know better, I'd say . . . she has a crush on him." Kirby shot a nervous glance to Splinter, gauging his response to this.

Splinter stood by, frozen and blank faced. One ear twitched.

"Wouldn't that be something?" Kirby asked tentatively in a soft voice.

"Mm, yes. Something." Splinter moved not a muscle as he asked the dreaded question, "And you?"

Kirby raised his brows and blew out a breath, looking surprised. "Me? You mean how I would feel about, uh, oh well. Honestly, when I started to realize . . . I wasn't sure what to think. Teenagers, you wouldn't know this, but  _especially_  girls," he edified Splinter, who merely nodded for him to continue, eyes bright and trained on him, "are terribly fickle, sometimes quirky and often prone to moodiness. Not to mention, sulkiness and general flights of fancy . . . so they tend to be, only at times, mind you, nearly impossible to speak with on a rational basis. You just can't reason with them." He shrugged just as Splinter was thinking his boys were not much different. "But then I figured no matter what, my girl is stubborn enough to follow her heart wherever it leads whether I like it or not."

Splinter considered the man's last words carefully. His heart sunk with the realization that Kirby was explaining that he was against a relationship between his daughter and Donatello. He guessed as much, but had hoped. He had hoped for his son's sake that there'd be one less obstacle in his way. There was so much against him as it was, against all of his children. But there was nothing to be done for it. His heart was heavy as he pondered when to suggest Donatello give up completely on his pursuit of the girl. He knew it would break his boy's heart. He felt as though his own was breaking a little for his boy even now.

In a soft voice, Splinter replied, "You are still her father. Should you forbid such a thing, it would be her responsibility to obey you."

"Oh, no. No, I didn't mean like that," Kirby corrected hastily.

Now it was Splinter's turn to look surprised.

"I have no problem with it, not really. If that's what she wants, of course. I'm only guessing. Who knows what goes on in those teenagers' minds. But no," he chuckled and sipped his lemonade. "No. Her mother . . . was different. I will have to tell you one day how we met. I think you'd appreciate the story," Kirby laughed and his eyes lit with a distant glow of remembrance and longing. But then he seemed to snap back to the present.

"I was worried what you would think."

"Me?" Splinter asked with an incredulous tone, echoing Kirby's earlier question. Kirby chuckled and Splinter found himself following suit, thinking he enjoyed this man's presence. Realizing all of a sudden that all these years of raising children without anyone to turn to for advice or just to speak with about the struggles and general ups and downs had left him with an emptiness that Kirby's new-found friendship seemed to fill. It was good to be able to talk man-to-man, father-to-father with someone. It was more than gratifying.

Splinter wiped at one eye and grew contemplative.

"April is . . . like a daughter to me." He thought, unable to voice it,  _like the one I've lost twice, now_. "To have her as my daughter in truth," he trailed off, eyes getting misty. He focused again on Kirby. "It would mean much. She is kind hearted and courageous. Intelligent and sweet. How could I find fault with such characteristics? I would have nothing less for my son."

Kirby straightened up. "Well, that's great." Kirby grinned, he held out his glass of lemonade. "Now, all we have to do is figure out how to make them see what's right in front of their faces."

"Hmpf, you may as well be asking me to catch a falling star with my bare hands."

"Can't leave everything up to fate, Splinter," Kirby said with a spreading grin on his face and raised his glass. "To catching stars!"

Splinter clinked his glass to Kirby's. "To hell with fate," Splinter added and Kirby nearly spit his lemonade out all over the old rat with the twinkling eyes.

There was a tire swing suspended over part of the lake, attached to a thick branch of the weeping willow tree that grew on the shore. The spreading branches above speckled the ground in undulating shadow as a warm breeze blew. Mikey emerged from the path and ran immediately to the tree. He shimmied up the trunk. Once reaching the right branch, he clambered to his feet and walked with arms outstretched for balance to the rope attaching the swing to the tree. He slid down and looped his legs through the opening of the tire and proceeded to swinging his legs until he had enough momentum to swing freely. He swung like that, back and forth, with a smile plastered across his face, his toes dipping into the cool water as he went.

Raph and Casey had resolved the wrestling match over the walking stick and Raph stood to one side, clutching it in his left hand like a staff, triumphant. With a twist of his wrist, he brought it around in a move that would make his brother, Donnie, proud so that the opposite end cracked Casey across his bottom, making him howl in pain and scramble out of reach.

"Oh, man, you are gonna be so sorry you did that!"

"I dunno, I feel pretty good so far," Raph said with a wicked grin. He spun the walking stick over and around his shell in a fancy pattern. "Not as fun as my sai, but since I beat you for ownership, I think I'll keep this close. You know, in case you start to forget who's the better fighter."

"Why you!"

"Uh-uh!" Raph warned and held it horizontally at him. Casey made a rude gesture with his hand. And Raph clucked his tongue at him. "Don't let Leo see ya doin' that, he might have a stroke. Then you'll have to answer to Splinter for killing his golden boy."

Casey waved him off. "I'm goin' to look for turtles."

"You need to get your eyes checked, cuz, uh," he gestured to himself and Casey rolled his eyes.

"I'm going to find ones that don't talk back."

"You're just mad cuz I beat ya for the best walking stick in the world." He considered it and smiled, looking at a long series of vines hanging on a nearby hedgerow. "I think I'm gonna try fishing."

April slid out of her checked shirt, revealing a yellow tank top beneath. She laid it over where she then sat on a large boulder that erupted from the ground among several smaller ones. She leaned back as Leonardo and Donatello took in the view.

"The water's so sparkly and pretty. It's like . . .  _dancing_ ," Leo said breathlessly, then ducked his head and twisted around to make sure Raph didn't hear him just say that. But his brother was engaged in removing a long vine from some bushes for some mysterious purpose. He sighed in relief and then he resolved not to open his mouth again when he felt his poetic heart pounding the way it was now at the view. He'd save such thoughts and words for his journal and his 'never -ever-in-a-million-years-would-I-give-these-to-her' love letters to Karai, hidden safely under several loose bricks beneath his tatami mat in his room.

April sheltered her eyes from the sun with one hand, looking up at Leo. "That's nice, Leo. I never thought of it like that before. Like dancing. You're quite the poet."

"Er," was all he could manage. Then, cheeks burning, he spun on his heel and said, "Raph, don't run with that branch. What are you doing? Put that down!"

He had the vine looped over one shoulder and held a large rock with his free hand. "I have ta make Casey eat this rock!"

Leo sped off in their direction, hollering orders at Raph which went completely ignored. April giggled and a shadow fell over her. She cocked her head to see Donatello standing awkwardly nearby. She patted the boulder next to her. Donatello folded his long legs and sat cross-legged next to her in the dirt, afraid to get too close. She smiled down at him and his stomach flip-flopped.

"This is just, really . . . uh, did you know, that this lake is one of only twelve in this region to host pike over seventy pounds," he said in a rush, then chuckled as he pulled at a some blades of grass in front of him. "In weight," he added for clarity unnecessarily, then internally cursed himself for being an asinine dope.

April pushed her lips together and nodded, "That's . . . good to know. They're not man eaters, are they?"

Donnie's face snapped up. "What? Oh, no. No, while certainly carnivorous, the pike's diet consists mainly of –"

His sentence was cut short by a fluttering of leaves thrown in his face. He blinked as one lingered on the edge of his snout before cascading down to his lap, unconsciously he caught it before it landed. The back of his neck heated uncomfortably and he felt like an idiot for rambling and boring her, only, the way she was looking at him then, biting the corner of her bottom lip, eyes surveying his face, neck, chest and shoulders, made anything like coherent feelings or thoughts vanish. He only felt the heat on his body where she was looking as though her gaze itself were leaving a physical imprint on him. Which was impossible, really. But still, that's how it felt. She was always doing unexplainable things to him. She was a mystery. A marvel.

"Wow," she said simply.

"Wh-What?" he asked, and cast around for what could have made her utter such a word. "Do you s-see something interesting?" Finding nothing, he turned back to look at her watching him with those gleaming eyes that made his heart stumble and trip over its feet. It couldn't be that she was wowing because of him? His heart galloped and his mouth went completely dry.

"Your skin."

His throat worked as embarrassment choked him. Oh, great. She noticed how pocked and oddly colored he was, how sickly green he was compared to the peachy warmth of her own skin tone. Even Mikey had a better overall coloring. He was more of a spring green, whereas his own skin tone was a garish gray-green, olive toned at best. He ducked his head and systematically started to fold the leaf held in his fingers into tiny triangles.

"It looks so nice out here in the sunlight. Like something between jade and emerald. But deeper. It reminds me of summer."

He looked up from the origami frog he'd somehow constructed without thought, mouth agape, and heart thundering in his ears. But before he could respond, or ask her to repeat that last part, Mikey splashed down into the water with a shout of glee, only to bolt straight up out of the lake to scream.

"COLD! It's  _COLD_!"

Leo suddenly emerged from behind him and Mikey let out another shriek just before he plunged Mikey back down into the frigid water. Laughing, he swam backwards as Mikey exploded upwards again.

"Leo! You tryin' to drown me!? What I ever do to you, bro!?"

"You just need to get used to the temperature, then it isn't so bad," he said as he laughed more.

"You're scaring all the fish," Raph called. He sat cross-legged; perched on an outcropping with his newly beloved prized stick, a long vine tied to one end, he was fastening a rock to the other end of the vine, tying an elaborate knot at the top to secure it. From one corner of his mouth a long thin twig dangled. Casey stood higher up scanning the area.

In an official voice, Casey said, "Just making sure things are clear. We don't want trouble, you know?"

Leo rolled his eyes and eased onto his shell to do a lazy backstroke. "Please, already did that the second we got to the lake," he muttered.

Casey looked down as Raph glanced up at him. One eye closed from the sun.

Casey pointed at the rock. "What are you planning to catch with that?"

"A big one," Raph replied.

He raised his arm and swung the make-shift fishing pole in a wide arc over his head until the rock at the end of the vine started to whistle from the motion. Casey leaned his body back to avoid being hit. Chuckling and calling out his approval. Mikey slowly waded closer to watch just as Raph's arm shot forward and the tethered rock flew directly at Mikey's head. Michelangelo ducked just as the projectile whizzed over. Missing him by a scant inch.

"Hey! Do I look fishy to you!?" He splashed the water angrily. "Why are you guys all trying to kill me!?"

Casey crossed his arms over his chest. "Nice cast."

"Peh, tell me about it. This nature stuff is all natural to me," Raph boasted.

Casey crouched and looked closer at the twig his friend was chewing on. He narrowed his eyes and then straightened up. "Then, I take it you already know that's poison ivy in your mouth."

"Poison what?"

Donatello and April screamed at the same time,  _"Spit it out, RAPH!"_

Eyes widened to circles, Raph leaped to his feet. He spat out the twig, then started hopping from side to side, wiping his tongue with his fingertips in a panic. Casey hugged his ribs and pitched to one side then careened off the edge of the hill they were on, laughing all the way down. Raph slowly stopped trying to peel his tongue with his fingers.

"Oh, you son of a . . ."

Casey started to run back up the path, losing his footing and still guffawing. Between gasps of laughter, he cried, voice breaking, "Serves you,  _haha ha_ , right,  _ahahaa_ , for hittin' me,  _snk hahahahaha_ , you shoulda' seen your . . . Ack!" He just dodged the soft-ball sized rock Raph lobbed at him and sped deeper into the woods towards their cabins.

"You think that's  _funny_!? I'm gonna cave your stupid head in!"

April ran her hands through her hair and glanced at Donatello. His shoulders slumped and he shook his head, blowing out his breath in exasperation.

"One of those rocks are going to hit," he said, thinking that he was grateful for packing the first aid kit despite Splinter telling him he'd already packed one for the family.

"Maybe it'll knock some sense into that nut."

"Or crack it."

April's chuckle at his lame attempt at a joke flared a joy through his being like a shooting star crossing the night sky. Leo emerged from the lake, dripping and scowling at the fading sounds of his brother and friend exchanging colorful language interspersed with more and more creative insults.

"Let's head back. C'mon, Mikey, you've been in there long enough," he ordered as he tried to squee-gee some of the chilled water from his forearms and then shaking out his fingers.

"But I just got used to it!"

"As your leader, you need to listen to me," Leo called, reminding him and getting irritated. "Besides, you're probably all prune-y and your lips are blue."

"They are?" Mikey asked and tried to see them by poking out his bottom lip as far as it would go.

"It looks like you're wearing blue lipstick."

"Really? Does it look good on me?"

Leo dropped his forehead into one palm and sighed. Part of him wished that rock had hit home, then he could just have carried Mikey's unconscious body back to the camp. It would be less trouble.

Lucky for him, April intervened. "C'mon, Mikey, let's see if Dad needs some help starting the fire. I want to show you how good campfire s'mores taste."

Mikey swam in a slow circle, still refusing to leave the now-warm water. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "S'mores. Like on t.v.? Chocolate and crackers?"

"That's right. Chocolate and graham crackers. And marshmallows."

His brows shot up. "I had those once! I love marshmallows!"

Leo stopped looking around one last time for danger in between shaking off the last few errant drips of water. He exchanged a look with Donatello. "When did you have marshmallows?" he asked dubiously.

Mikey swam on his back, kicking his legs as he folded his arms behind his head. "I have my ways."

April said, "Oh-kay. Oh! And banana boats! Oh, I almost forgot. I hope dad remembered to bring all the stuff." She looked around at their blank expressions. "They're a sort of dessert. You make them with bananas, marshmallows and chocolate chips. When I was a girl scout we learned how to make them."

"Y-You were a girl scout?" Donnie asked a half-grin spreading crookedly on his face, unable to hide the sudden blush that crept up from the base of his neck to his cheeks as he pictured the gorgeous woman before him in a revealing uniform and checked mini-skirt. He swallowed audibly.

"Yeah, from first grade through third. Then we moved around so much, I never got to do it again," she explained and her story made him deflate in pity.

"That's too bad," he said and handed her the origami frog without thinking.

She took it and smiled stealing away his breath. "Not really. If we hadn't, then I would have never come to New York."

"True."

"And I wouldn't have ever had the chance to meet you," she added. And there was something in the tone of her voice when she said 'you' that snagged his attention. She turned on her heel and showing Leo the tiny frog, started up the path with him, leaving Donatello standing rooted to the spot, feeling a rush of emotions; tangled and circling one another around and around, like a frantic dog chasing its tail. He jumped as Mikey tapped him on the shoulder.

"I have a confession to make."

Donatello blinked.

"I've never really had a marshmallow before."

Donatello didn't know what to say besides 'I knew it', but he kept that to himself.

"I just thought I could trust you with that knowledge. Since you're the only bro that hasn't tried to kill me out here in the jungle."

"Forest," Donatello corrected automatically.

Mikey narrowed his eyes, "At least, not yet." Then, with a serious expression and taking several steps back, he pointed two fingers at his eyes then at Donatello to show he would be keeping an eye on him. Then he turned and hurried off to catch up with the others. "Wait up! I want those delicious-sounding banana ships!"

Donnie sighed. All his brothers were nuts.

But there was something on his mind that he just couldn't process. It was nearly unbelievable but, April had given him two compliments. Well, technically, one, officially, about his skin. The other one was perhaps implied, but the message was clear. She was glad that she'd moved to New York because it afforded her the opportunity to meet him. Not them. Him. His heart fluttered and squeezed painfully. He wondered what it meant. If anything at all. Did she mean to only point out him, himself? Or was it a slip of the tongue?

The thought of her tongue slipping led to the distracting image of her in the girl-scout uniform once again. A giddy chuckle rose out of him that was abruptly cut off as he walked into a tree. 


	3. Ch 3

Chapter 3

The sun colored the sky in sherbet-tones of orange cream and pink, highlighted and framed by the sweeping upper branches of surrounding trees. Leaves a dark green with the full blush of summer's influence. A cooling breeze ruffled his fur as Master Splinter gazed over the clearing that made up the yard situated in front of the cabins.

In the center of the neatly trimmed grounds were four large fallen tree trunks, laying in a circle, surrounding an open space ringed with soft-ball sized stones separating the area meant for building a large bonfire. Casey was carefully setting twigs in the center, positioning them in a teepee style while Raphael continuously swatted at bugs, both real and imagined, in the air around him. Mikey sat next to April, nearly on top of her, peering over her bowed head as she sorted through the supplies needed to make the banana boats and s'mores. She looked up as Casey said something and with a toss of her head, knocked a strand of loose hair from her eyes as she laughed.

With a twitch of his ear he noticed Kirby talking to Donatello near the van. Things were not going as planned. Since they'd come back from their trek to the lake, April was keeping close company with Casey while Donatello was occupied in a circumventing route to her attention by assisting her father in any and every way he could find. Splinter sighed through his nose. He and Kirby had devised a set of subtle arrangements to afford his son and Kirby's daughter to spend a little time together without outside interference. Foolish to interfere with fate, perhaps, but Splinter was tired of allowing the forces of destiny to keep his students at disadvantage time and time again.

He moved towards Donatello and Kirby, bent over the open hood of the van in the dwindling light, but from the corner of his eye, Splinter noticed his eldest boy, gazing off out over the lake. He was perched upon a low branch jutting from a grand elm tree whose branches spread majestically in an arc above him. Something in his body language spoke of an uneasy spirit. A loneliness that struck Splinter with sharp recognition.

Of his boys, he saw much of himself in both Leonardo and Raphael, but sometimes worried about the similarity his eldest student had to his lost dear friend. The paranoia, the self-isolation, the ever burning need for perfection . . . and when Leonardo had confessed his feelings for Karai, trying so hard to convince them all that he'd already recovered from any folly of feelings. Denying himself happiness to save face. Lying not just to placate his family, but the lie to his own heart . . . It was indeed troubling.

Splinter shook his head sadly and thought of his friend from long ago, how long did Saki deny . . . before it all rushed to the surface that fateful afternoon. And he, so foolishly, allowing his anger to flavor his words, indignation and fury guiding his deeds . . . so much like Raphael, Splinter mused. Ah, but if only he'd kept his temper in check, perhaps he could have spared his friend the painful humiliation . . . the rift between them it caused and the wounds his words created only festered over time, growing into a monstrosity of rage molded around that ancient yearning, that sting of hurt.

Donatello would have to wait a bit longer for his possible destiny to be manipulated. He moved from the porch and approached his contemplative son, knowing that Kirby's eyes were on him suddenly, questioning. Knowing that he needed to help his friend, as they had planned, but needing to have a word with Leonardo first.

As he approached, he noted how absorbed Leo seemed and it wasn't until he reached out and tapped the bottom of one dangling foot that Leo started and became aware of his presence at all.

"Master, you startled me."

"A ninja must always be aware of his surroundings." He looked chagrinned as his head ducked. So quick to feel the sting of failure. So hard on himself, Splinter mused. "But a master knows when it is appropriate to allow his guard down. To give himself a chance to refocus and channel his energies into a productive flow. It serves no one when their leader is unbalanced."

"I don't . . ."

"The weapons case," Splinter said simply, eyeing his student.

Leo, cheeks pink, slid from the branch in one smooth move. His body falling in front of his father with easy grace that the boy always possessed. He held his head low. "I'm sorry for disobeying. I just . . . I thought it would be a good idea to just be on the safe side."

"It does not serve you or your brothers to obsess over danger in such a constant way. Do not allow yourself to fall to the draw of darkness. You and your brothers are safe, at least for now, here, in this place. The light of your family and friends around you in such a setting should make you feel at ease."

"Hai, Sensei," Leo said. Though the reply was sincere, Splinter noted that there persisted in his son's eyes a stubborn resistance to the idea that they were safe.

"Since you were so interested in the weapons case, you will polish the enclosed weapons and adjust the leather wraps on the handles when we return," he said and Leo nodded glumly. "On each of them," he added for clarification.

Splinter folded his hands behind his back and satisfied that the matter was finished, strode forward. He gazed out over the scenery that his son had, only moments ago, been lost in. His shoulders relaxed and his body language told Leonardo the lecture and discipline were over. Leo crept closer. "Beautiful," he murmured, taking in the glittering cast of sunrays falling across the slate blue of the still lake. A loon cried out, low and haunting and a breeze rustled through the branches overhead.

Leo shifted his feet, one hand on his opposite elbow; still feeling the embarrassment of being caught in disobedience by his father; still feeling that he was not wrong for wanting to bring a little added protection for his family that he was tasked to look out for. He did his best to get past the awkwardness.

"Oh, yeah. I was . . . looking at the water."

Splinter eyed him from the side. "While I am not doubting the loveliness of this landscape had you enchanted, something tells me it is another matter that had your mind so occupied."

His cheeks darkened and his eyes grew round and bright as though caught in some lie. And Splinter, knowing his son, knew he'd guessed correctly. That the emotions rippling from his boy earlier were accurate of his distressed heart.

Leonardo sputtered, "N-No, I . . . I was just . . . I –"

"My son, speak plainly to me. You are not in trouble because of your thoughts. I could tell that while your physical presence remained here with us, your mind was far away. As was your heart." He paused and Leo gazed back out over the lake, swallowing roughly. "Something troubles you."

"Karai," he spoke and then covered his mouth in shock. He shot panicked eyes at his father then dropped his hands to his sides in a rigid stance. "I mean, nothing. N-No." If his cheeks were red before they practically glowed scarlet now.

Splinter blinked and considered his child's admittance and quick attempt to cover it once again. "I see."

Leonardo sighed and gave up trying to pretend. "I . . . I can't help thinking about her, Master Splinter. I-I know there's good in her. I've always known it, Sensei. I don't think anyone that came from you could really be . . . bad," he said with a shy glance up at his sensei, head ducked.

"Your faith in Karai is admirable."

Leonardo straightened up, a smile spread across his face.

"But you may be putting too much of that faith in her . . . for the wrong reasons."

His smile dropped. Splinter gave him a long look. Leo's mind raced. Sentences full of defensive feelings, full of denial piled up on the tip of his tongue, but he found himself unable to speak for some reason. The expression on his master's face shifted from concern, to resignation and it left Leonardo feeling responsible for making his father sad. His heart was beating uncomfortably in his chest. He wanted to fix what he'd just done, but he had no idea what to do, let alone understanding of what just had happened. How could Splinter not see what was so plain to him?

"The heart is a funny thing, my son. Sometimes it is simply wrong in its wants. And . . . sometimes it can even be cruel, leading us to believe in something that is not there."

Without thinking, Leo glanced over at Donatello, still talking with Kirby near the van, casting fleeting looks in April's direction who was poking Casey with a stick with a marshmallow jabbed onto the end of it. Casey jumped up, and holding his own make-shift marshmallow laden stick, began to 'sword fight' with her. Leo's shoulders slumped. He suddenly felt tired and confused. He flinched when Splinter placed a warm hand upon his shoulder.

"But it is not wrong to cling to hope. Because . . . sometimes, the heart is not wrong or cruel. Sometimes it simply," he shrugged and shook his head helplessly, "knows things that the mind refuses to grasp."

With that Splinter squeezed Leonardo's shoulder and gave him a pat. He smiled and the look had a sad edge to it that struck Leonardo's heart painfully.

"I'm sorry," he blurted, not knowing why.

"The weapons case?" Splinter asked, tilting his head with incomprehension. "Do not let that trouble you. That is behind us."

"N-No," he didn't know why but he went on, "I'm sorry for feeling . . . for . . ." he struggled. The concept too far out of his reach, the guilt mingling too much with want, the new experience of love too raw and too baffling for him to sort through; that it was Karai, his master's daughter, the one who was like a father to him confused the situation and left him feeling fearful, though of what he wasn't sure.

Splinter's eyes softened with comprehension. For what his son could not process, for the father it was clear. He was too afraid of what his feelings might mean for the two of them. For their relationship was teacher and student but also, child and parent, fleeting, but no less real. He slowly pulled Leonardo into an embrace that Leo reluctantly, then fiercely returned.

In a whisper, Splinter told him, "Do not apologize for your heart, Leonardo. It is good. And what you feel for her. That is good also. If I were to choose for her . . . so many things . . . but above all, I would want no other for her. Nothing will change between us should fate decide favorably, for both a young warrior and a silly old rat."

Leonardo stood, stunned and immobile as Splinter released him. Some things would be determined by fate's indifferent, and all too often, cruel hand, while others . . . With one last, knowing look, he turned away and called to Donatello, "Donatello, why are you disturbing April's father so much this evening?"

Leaving Leonardo to process what his father had just revealed and given blessing to. Chasing away his doubts, extinguishing his needless fears, his empty worry. Leonardo stared at awe at his father's back feeling light headed and stunned. He slowly turned back to the dancing light upon the water's surface, every snap and twinkle, every golden arc of light reminding him of one whose beauty was the only other thing that had ever made him feel so free, so alive, so real and grounded.

Donatello straightened where he stood at the sound of his father calling him out as though catching him in some unseemly act, one hand propped on the front of the van, suddenly looking around as all eyes snapped to him, his face growing a bright pink, mouth agape; despite doing nothing more than conversing with Mr. O'Neil about the state of the vehicle. "I-I wasn't . . . bothering," he sputtered over the word as it came breathlessly out of his mouth. He ran a dry tongue across his bottom lip. "That is . . . He asked me about the-the . . ."

Splinter waved his hand away in a dismissive gesture. "Go inside and finish making the beds for your brothers and yourself."

"B-But Sensei," he protested, pointing to the engine with two hands, "Mr. O'Neil was just telling me that he needed some help with the carburetor. It keeps starting only to stop after a minute. I was explaining to him that he should check to see if it's flooding because of the float valve being stuck . . . open," he finished lamely as he withered a bit under an inscrutable stare from his father. As if adding insult to injury, the coarse sound of Casey Jones' laughter broke over the uncomfortable moment.

He suddenly felt strangely exposed and nervous as though he'd been caught in something he shouldn't be doing. He was only trying to help. Why was Splinter looking at him like that? He wasn't really trying to get in good with April's father in the hopes that she might notice how well they got along, well, not really. He rubbed the back of his heating neck and swallowed; fidgeting where he stood; wondering why it seemed as though he were being punished for something.

He looked at Kirby, pleading with his eyes, "I wasn't b-bothering you. Was I?" he whispered the question, suddenly unable to pull enough oxygen into his lungs to annunciate with any power.

At that moment, Kirby and Splinter locked eyes. Kirby wiped his hands on an oily rag and cleared his throat. "Actually, I was hoping that Casey might be able to help me with that."

Splinter was impressed with the man's ability to speak so smoothly in the face of Donatello's obvious hurt. He, on the other hand, was struggling with not going immediately to his boy and explaining everything.

"Oh." Donatello shrank into himself. He said nothing more but blinked once, staring at Kirby as though he didn't just hear what the man had said; mouth hanging slightly open to reveal the gap between his teeth.

"Casey!" Splinter called, needing to look anywhere but at his son's hurt expression. Donatello visibly winced. He kept his gaze locked on where Casey had stood before, now hidden behind a column of smoke, but from the corner of his vision, he noted his son's expression, felt the wave of anguish cut through him and internally, he cringed in empathy. Externally, he remained calm. He did not wish to cause more suffering to his child, but to wrestle control from fate, one had to be aggressive. He steeled himself against sentimentality and reminded himself that Donatello might by thanking him for this by the end of the night.

The boy looked up from behind a black plume over the pile of sticks smoldering but not alight. He coughed and waved at the blinding smoke that Mikey and April were doing their best to stay out of the path of. While Raphael looked pleased because the amount of smoke meant fewer bugs in the vicinity; sitting cross armed with red-rimmed and watering eyes, but with a smile of triumph on his face, nonetheless.

"Yeah, er, yes, Master Splinter?" Casey choked out.

Donatello looked from Casey to Master Splinter to Kirby who was studiously staring at the tips of his toes then back to his father in shocked disbelief. He laughed loudly all of a sudden and it was as awkward sounding as it was painful, "You know I built the shell raiser. From scratch," he croaked the last word and cleared his throat and dropping his eyes when no one responded to his declaration.

Casey leapt over the stack of reluctant kindling and burst through the thick cloud of smoke billowing just above the campfire that remained more camp than fire. He skipped and fell into a swaggering saunter as he approached the vehicle.

"Car troubles?" he asked with his hands on his hips as he gazed into the open compartment behind the hood of the van they'd arrived in. He leaned forward, bracing his palms on either side of the front end, slapping it with his fingers as he peered inside. "Ah, these old tanks, you know how they get," he said with a knowing air.

Kirby smiled and kept his gaze purposely from Donatello who loomed just inside his peripheral. "Well, I was hoping to run into town tomorrow morning. There's a few things I forgot to pack," he chuckled and shrugged. "But the van started to act up. Besides, I figured you and I could use some bonding time."

Donatello made a soft sound as though something had stung him, or startled him.

"Really?" Casey said full of surprised astonishment and grinned, genuine and wide enough to display the missing front teeth. "Aw, that sounds great, Mr. O'Neil," he said with real emotion.

Kirby felt a twinge of regret for interfering on whatever fate's plans had in store. For knowingly coming between this good hearted, if not a bit too wild for his comfort, boy. He wondered for a moment if it was right, playing match-maker this way and decided firmly, no. That if anything, he owed Donatello at least a fighting chance with his daughter for all he'd done for their family. Besides, he would be spending time with this boy who was in need of some solid male influence. He knew nothing of Casey's home life but for the odd bits of information he'd gotten from April. Missing school. Bruising and welts that were so easily brushed off with explanations of hockey practice. A little too easily.

"Donatello, please do as I instructed," Splinter said from behind the two men.

Casey pointed to the engine, "I bet it just needs a bit of TLC and it'll be good as new!"

Donnie, head held low, flinched at Casey's poor assessment of the problem and could not help but hiss under his breath to Casey, "It's the float valve sticking not lack of love!" before smoothly ducking the swipe of Master Splinter's hand and scurrying into the cabin without looking back. Feeling stung and irrationally angry as he slammed the screen door behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Mikey nearly dies and Donnie makes a right ass of himself.

**Chapter 4**

Inside the cabin, Donatello stomped up the stairs towards the second-story bedrooms.  On the main level was a sitting room furnished with a couch and two large upholstered armchairs, a small bookcase filled with various sized paperback and hardbound books, a coffee table with several board games stashed beneath it and in one corner was a long mirror affixed to a closet; immediately to the right of the closet was a short hallway which led to a large bathroom and ended at the two smaller bedrooms that were for April and Casey.  On the other side of the sitting room was a small galley-style kitchen with a breakfast nook tucked in the far corner just in front of twin tall windows that looked out into the front and side of the campsite.

“I can’t believe this,” he grumbled to himself.  “What does that punk kid even know about engines?”  He shook his head, hands on his hips as he regarded the state of the room.  Leo’s bunk was neatly made, the blankets tucked under the mattress.  Raph’s looked like someone had punched the blanket into place, the bruised pillow sat, lumpy and defeated at the head of the bed, and Mikey’s wasn’t made at all.  He couldn’t even find his brother’s pillow.

“Nothing, is what he knows,” he continued out loud, scowling at Mikey’s bed.  “Only knocking around stupid hockey pucks with his stupid sticks on the stupid ice.”

* * *

April felt Donatello’s discomfort like the teasing ebb of a gentle wave against her consciousness.  She wasn’t completely in control of her special abilities, not even close.  But sometimes, when she wasn’t paying attention, something would tickle the back of her mind, or make the hair on her arms stand up.  She watched him go into the cabin and stood up from the log she was sharing with Mikey.  Without thinking she handed Michelangelo the box of graham crackers and bag of marshmallows.

“I’ll be right back, okay?”

Not waiting for a response, she hurried across the grounds, unaware of Splinter’s keen eyes on her as she went.  Casey and her father were talking in front of the van.  Leo still sat at the edge of the lake, watching the play of light across the water’s surface; lost in his thoughts.

Mikey watched her go.  He set the box to one side and glancing at Raph, moved his fingers to either end of the bag of marshmallows.  Instantly aware that his brother was up to something, Raphael scooted over from his log to the one Mikey was sitting on.  He frowned.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Mikey shrugged.  “Nothing.”

“April didn’t say you could open that.” He pointed to the bag as Mikey pried it with his fingertips until the plastic stretched and ripped slowly open.  The scent of marshmallows hit him, making his eyes cross for a second before they righted.  His mouth started to water.

“She didn’t say that.  She said she’d be right back.”

Raph crossed his arms and glowered at his younger brother. 

Mikey reached into the bag.  “What are you, like the marshmallow police?  I just want to try one.”

“Don’t stick your grubby hand in there, you’ll get your germs all over those. Besides, smart guy, I thought you said you had marshmallows before.”

Mikey yanked his hand back out.  “I don’t have germs,” he mumbled to the ground then quickly moved his hand to his mouth, choosing to ignore the rest of what his brother said.

“Hey!”

Mikey closed his eyes as he chewed.  “MMMmm.  Mm!  Oh my god, Raph!” he said, still chewing, eyes going back into the back along with his hand.  “Marshmallows are incredible!”  He shoved his hand back into the bag and emerged with a fist full of marshmallows, he jabbed it into his mouth as Raph started and lurched forward, grabbing his arm.

“Stop it! Stop eating all of them!”

“I can’t helbit!” Mikey cried through cheeks full of sticky, gooey, half-chewed marshmallows.  He turned his shell to block Raph from grabbing the bag away from him.  “Mardmallows are bedder than pee-da!” 

“Mikey! You hog!  Gimme that bag!”

“MMno!”

Mikey lunged to the side to avoid Raph’s tackle.  He rolled backwards off the log, head over heels and did a backwards somersault into the grass.  Raph spun around and leaped over the log.

“I’m gonna pound you into a marshmallow!”

“Ah! Leabe me alone!”  Mikey hollered, mouth full and started racing around, doubling back towards the smoldering campfire; eating as many marshmallows as he could while he ran.

* * *

Still grumbling under his breath, Donatello decided to make up his youngest brother’s bed first.  Crawling up onto Mikey’s bed to catch hold of the end of one crumpled blanket, Donatello grimaced and pulled his hand away from the mattress.  Stuck to his palm was a candy bar wrapper, melted chocolate acting as the glue to his skin.  He sat back on one thigh and peeled the plastic away.  A long thin rope of caramel and gooey chocolate connected the wrapper to his palm.

“Ugh, Mikey.  Why do you have to be so disgusting?”  He sighed as he noticed more opened packages strewn about the messy blankets.  They hadn’t even been in their cabin that long.  Donatello wondered when he had the time to make such a mess.  Looking around for something to wipe his hand on, he was tempted to use his brother’s pillowcase to teach him a lesson.  “Bonehead probably wouldn’t even notice, though,” he muttered as he stood up.  He crossed the room and ducked beneath a set of shelves where they had stored their bags.

He pulled a canister of wet wipes from one of the pockets of his bag and sat back on his heels.  He began wiping his palm off in abrupt jerking motions.  In a mock tone of Mr. O’Neil’s voice, Donnie said, “I want to get to know you better, son.  You’re such a fine example of humanity.  We should become best friends! Since we have nothing in common, it makes perfect sense! Let’s give the van love and it’ll be right as rain.  Then you can teach me all about sports like hockey!” 

He dropped into a high falsetto and mocked Casey, bobbing his head side to side dramatically as he did, “Aw gee, pops.  That’ll be grand. You ‘n me are like two please in a pot! Lemme just get my hockey stick out of my ass -”

“Rehearsing for a musical?”

April’s voice had him jumping up violently from where he sat.  The top of his head slammed against the lowest shelf hard enough to send the books toppling down over his head and shoulders.  Each one a further insult to his horror and humiliation.  He scrambled around on his bottom to see her standing with her arms crossed, leaning against one support of the bunk beds.  Eyes wide, mouth gaping, blushing deep crimson from the base of his jaw up to his eyes he started to stammer out an explanation, wondering how much she heard.  Praying she didn’t hear the part where he was mocking her father.  Knowing he was not that lucky.

“I was . . . I was just . . . I wasn’t, uh, I mean, I was just thinking.  Out loud!  Thinking thoughts out loud.”

“Do you always think out loud in two different voices?” she asked, trying and failing at hiding the half smile teasing one corner of her mouth.

His hopes shriveled and curled like so much dried fruit in the sun.  Still, he had to try, didn’t he?  “Uh, sometimes?”

April bit her top lip and straightened up.  She crossed over and crouched down and started gathering up the books scattered around him.

“So, that was weird.”

Humiliation choked him.  His Adam’s Apple bobbed furiously.  He opened his mouth in the hopes of explaining that he really wasn’t just making fun of her dad a moment ago when she went on.  That he held Kirby in the highest regard.  That he would never insult her father in such a disrespectful way.

“Out there by the van.  I mean, Dad knows you’re an expert mechanic.  I tell him all the time that you could fix absolutely anything.”  She glanced up at him to see him still staring with wide eyes and his mouth hanging open.  As if catching himself, he jerked his face away and snapped his mouth shut.  He busied himself with helping stack books into her arms, feeling the reminded sting of his earlier incomprehensible rejection by her father.

“It’s what I do,” he said quietly with a soft shrug of one shoulder.

“Yeah,” she agreed and rose up.  “And no one does it better.”

He watched her from the floor as she placed the books in one section onto the shelf, then arranged them so they wouldn’t fall again.  Then she looked down at him and offered her hand.

“Oh, uh, right.”  Donnie took it and she pulled him up.  His long limbs unfolded and he stood awkwardly next to her.  He noticed just how close they were.  “I could have the van running in no time,” he said, reaching up and picking at the loose, frayed spine of one book.  He hoped he didn’t sound as petulant as he thought he did.  But still, he couldn’t understand why Kirby wanted Casey to help instead of him.

“I know.”

“It’s just the valves sticking, I’m sure of it.”

“I bet you’re right.”

His shoulders slumped.  It didn’t matter.  Kirby was more comfortable with Casey, the human boy, helping him.  That’s all this was about.  Like the rest of the world, it didn’t matter to Mr. O’Neil what he understood or was capable of doing or thinking or feeling.  He was a freak.  It wasn’t fair.  But life wasn’t fair, Donatello was beginning to understand this all too well.  He cleared his throat to cover the tightness forming there.  He picked at the spine a little more and did his best not to look at April who was standing so close to him.  Another pipe dream that he needed to face reality about.  The sooner the better.  This was only going to hurt worse the longer he held fast to his false hope.

“You know what’s good about Dad taking Casey with, though, don’t you?” April asked, interrupting his thoughts.

“He’s not here to get between us?” he blurted then his eyes widened as he moved to cover his mouth. Did he just say that out loud?   _Way to go, genius!_  “Uh! Uh, um, I mean between me . . . and the van!  Me and the van that needs my attention.  B-Because it needs work.  On the engine, that makes it go!  And Casey would be in my way while I have my way with it.  The van.  I mean, fixing it!”  He instead made to slap himself in the forehead.  But April caught his hand before it could reach his mouth or forehead and the smile on her face had erupted into her laughing. 

Donatello stiffened and froze in place.  All coherent thought was replaced with the awareness of her suddenly holding not one but both his hands in hers; that her body was merely inches from his, so close, he could feel the alluring warmth of her sun-kissed skin beckoning to him; and her eyes were twinkling in a merry way; not full of mocking, but something else; something tender yet beneath that was a light and it was . . . smoldering.  His heart somehow managed to leap into his throat and the blood rushed through his ears.

She tilted her head to one side by degrees and her smile turned sultry.  Donatello felt the strength flee from his legs; felt his knees start to knock into one another and the back of his neck ignite hotter than the burning of his cheeks.  He blinked rapidly.  Was she . . . leaning in like this . . . for a kiss?  It wasn’t logical.  It couldn’t be real.  None of this could be.  He must have struck his head with more force than he realized and was hallucinating this while in reality he lay on the ground, drooling and twitching while she screamed for Master Splinter.

“April . . . what . . .” he breathed and his eyelids fluttered closed as he felt her breath ghost across his mouth, sucking it in greedily and stealing it away into his lungs.  His thoughts scattered and left him in a delirious haze of painful expectation.  His very body tingled with anticipation of her lips approaching his.

_“DONNIE!”_

April and Donatello jumped in unison and immediately she released him; falling back several steps to create space between them; space that felt like the rift of time and space itself.  A void that he may never traverse.  His vision swam and snapped into place.  His heart hammered and he felt slightly sick.

The frantic scream came again, “DONNIE!”

He swallowed, casting one fleeting glance back to her face, noting the flush of her cheeks, the bright light in her eyes, before she dropped her gaze and he rushed from the room, April close on his heels.  The panic of Leonardo’s voice had his legs skipping down the stairs two at a time, but in one quiet place in his mind, his brain seemed to be in a heated debate with his heart.  The two continued to argue. 

 _She was going to kiss me,_ his heart whispered, with tender hope and delicate joy.

‘Preposterous.  There was no way that that was what she was about to do.’ 

_Then how do you explain her body language?_

‘Perhaps she had an abdominal spasm, thrusting her face forward.’

 _She was going to kiss me,_ his heart insisted.

“What’s the matter?” Donatello croaked as his voice caught and broke.  He cleared his throat and hoped no one noticed that his cheeks were still bright red.

Master Splinter had Michelangelo down on the ground.  His younger brother was squirming and obviously choking.  Splinter was trying to do the Heimlich maneuver but was getting nowhere between the boy’s shell and whatever it was causing him to choke.  Leonardo didn’t answer, but raced to his sensei’s side, alert and ready to do whatever his father needed.  Casey and Kirby stood by, looking worried and helpless.

“The moron stuffed his face with marshmallows and now he’s dying!” Raph shouted in his ear and Donnie, blinking, ducked his head and dashed to Splinter’s side.  “Do something!” Raph shoved him forward by the shell.

“Turn him over,” he ordered in a firm voice.  “Wait. What was he eating?”

Splinter hastened to do as Donatello commanded.  He rolled his son over in his arms.  Looking shaken and upset.  Mikey’s eyes were watering and his face was a strange shade of purplish green.  His legs kicked and his hands were at his throat.  His mouth hung open to reveal a mash of white mush clogging the interior. 

“He was chowing down on marshmallows and I was giving him a hard time about it!” Raph shouted again, his voice rising in panic.  “I was chasing him and he kept shoving them in his mouth and then he sort of stopped and fell and I sort of . . . jumped on him and then we were wrestling.  Oh my god! I killed my little brother with marshmallows!”

“Raph, calm down,” Donatello said as Raph began pacing just behind him.  “The marshmallows are blocking his air way.  We need . . . we need something . . . to get them out with.”

He was shoved to one side by a rough arm.  Hard enough to have him land on his side.  Raphael dropped to his knees and using both hands, alternated sticking his fingers into his brother’s mouth and dragging gobs of chewed marshmallow free.  Slinging the blobs to either side; hitting Casey and Leo where they crowded around. 

“My fault . . . this is my fault for chasing him, and jumping on him,” Raph said with an anguished expression between digging a hole through the mass with his fingertips, going deeper into Mikey’s mouth as he squirmed and closed his tearing eyes. 

There was a gagging noise and a gurgle and Mikey’s body bucked.  He swallowed and coughed and eased out of Splinter’s grasp.  He rolled forward and gasping, reached up to grab Raph’s shoulders.

“M okay,” he managed in a hoarse voice as he struggled to get the rest of the mallow down or out of his mouth.  After a few moments of more hacking and wheezing, he looked up and gave Raph a watery smile.  “Thanks, bro.”

Raph took the top of his head in one sticky palm and rubbed it furiously.  “I’m sorry.  You can eat all the marshmallows you want, bro.  Just don’t do that to me ever again!”

Master Splinter blew out a shaky breath.  “Well done, Donatello . . . and Raphael.  Michelangelo,” he said more sternly.  “How many times have I told you small bites?  One at a time?  And Raphael!”

Raph jumped.

“How many times have I told you not to wrestle with your brothers when they are trying to eat!?”

Mikey ducked his head, and Raph mirrored the motion, together they said in a meek voice, “Sorry, Sensei.”

Splinter huffed through his nose, furious and upset, but then shot a glance to Kirby who ran a hand over his forehead and then started to laugh.  Splinter glared once more at Michelangelo and Raphael, but then he too, allowed a chuckle to emerge.  What was important was that everyone was okay.

“Kids,” he and Kirby said together.

Casey crouched down next to Raph.  “You gotta be more careful, Mikey.”  His real concern had everyone pause for a moment.  He glanced around.  He rubbed the back of his head.  “Well, choking isn’t a game, you know.  My little sister once choked on a cough drop and she turned all blue before the ambulance finally came.  We . . . We almost lost her,” he added quietly, then turned back to Mikey.  “It’s not like we can call an ambulance . . . and . . . I sorta like you guys.  Er, I mean,” he corrected quickly, cheeks growing pink, “you’re ninjas, you can’t let something like a marshmallow take you out!”  He stood up and crossed his arms defensively.  He scoffed loudly, “What kind of way is that to go?  Killed by a marshmallow.”

“Nature’s deadliest fruit,” Mikey said with wide eyes shaking his head slowly.  Donatello dropped his head into his palm but said nothing.

“Uh, I don’t think anyone wants s’mores after this, do you?” April asked tentatively.

“Are you kidding?” Mikey asked, jumping up.  “They may be the deadliest fruit, but they’re the best thing I ever ate besides pizza!  I don’t want to miss out on s’mores.”  He spun around to face Master Splinter.  “Can I?” he begged.

Splinter rolled his eyes.  Then in a firm voice, he reminded him, “One at a time!”

“Right!”

“Okay, I know I have another bag of them in my pack.” 

She threw him a quick glance that he could not decipher, but no doubt would be examining and picking apart long into the night while his family slept, hurried over to the fire, still nothing but billowing smoke, to search her pack for the tasty, but dangerous ‘fruit’.  His brothers followed.  Raph clapping Mikey across the shoulders with one arm and Casey stepping closely on his other side.  Leo was followed by Splinter and Kirby and Donatello watched them gather around the fire.  Relieved that a crises was avoided, feeling the aftereffects of the tidal waves of emotions churning in his body.

All he could think, with all his heart, his mind strangely quiet now, was:  _She was going to kiss me._

 


	5. Spooky Tales

Twilight deepened around them, masking the woods in shadows, stealing away the golds and reds and leaving them with only the whispered blues and soft green-grays; the velvet black so sweet and inviting that stars turned their twinkling gaze to peer through the gloaming down at them. The fire, rich with flames that rose and danced, bright and vibrant, thanks to a few modifications to the arrangement of kindling by Master Splinter, crackled and sang its primitive melody. Night kissed the air with a chilled caress, but in front of them, their faces and arms and legs glowed with warmth. The contrast of cool and heat prickled their skin and ignited their imaginations. Voices murmured and broke into chuckling while fat marshmallows, held over the fire, speared through the center by sticks and in one case, the tip of a sai, swelled and blackened.

Kirby and Splinter sat side by side on one log. The man flanked on one side by Casey and Splinter with Leonardo, close enough for the old rat to give his son an affectionate, one-armed hug across his shell, squeezing his shoulder once before releasing him. Leo, unafraid of the display, feeling no embarrassment, as charming and affectionate as he'd been as a child so he was in adolescence, beamed at his father. Relishing the attention. Raphael, who'd normally be envious of such displays between his father and brother, but too proud to ever actively seek out such affection for himself, was too focused on making sure Mikey ate his food carefully to notice. Casey chatted with Kirby about what parts might be needed for the van when they'd go into town the next morning.

April sat in front of the log closest to the fire in order to monitor optimal marshmallow toasting times. On her left, under Raphael's watchful eye, Mikey gobbled down his second s'more with reckless abandon, though carefully chewing through the graham cracker's rough texture and tonguing the smooth chocolate and heated mallow; savoring every thrill of pleasure the treat brought him; his earlier close encounter with death at the hands of the marshmallow forgotten, or conquered, as he steadily finished off the delightful treat and reached for his third. Raphael said nothing as he dug into his banana boat, still he was ready in case Mikey should start to choke again. This time he wouldn't hesitate.

Donatello kept his distance and sat to April's right. He nibbled on one corner of the s'more she made for him, lost in thought, pondering what had happened in the cabin before the emergency, wondering if perhaps he'd had some kind of hallucination brought on by a possible bug bite or difference in the shift of barometric pressure at this elevation and in-coming storm clouds that blotted some of the twinkling stars above them.

Mikey sat bolt-upright and Raphael tensed. "What's the matter?!"

"I just thought of something!"

The group paused, listening.

Mikey smacked his sticky lips, partially glued together with mallow. From between sucking on his chocolate-covered fingers, he explained, "Camp-fire. Night-time. You know." He gazed around at their blank looks. "Spooky stories, guys! We should tell some!"

A slow grin spread across Casey's face and April nodded, already thinking of the urban legend she wanted to share. Raph rubbed his palms together, smiling wickedly.

Kirby cleared his throat. "Uh, well, in that case, I'm going to call it a night."

Splinter blinked up at him as he stood. A question before the two men.

"I've had a life-time's worth of scary incidents while I was, uh, a mutant bat," he nodded resolutely. "So, if you'll excuse me. Goodnight."

Splinter bowed his head respectfully and April dashed around the fire to give her dad a tight embrace. He kissed the top of her head and waved to the rest of the group.

Mikey bounced on his log. "Okay, okay, okay! I'm goin' first!"

"Why do you get to be first?" Raph crossed his arms.

"Cuz it was my idea."

April returned and sat on the ground, just in front of the log that Donatello alone occupied, leaning against Donatello's leg. He flushed at the contact of her bare arm along the outside of his leg. Doing his best not to notice, unable to focus on anything other than the feeling of her warmth, her softness, suddenly unsure of where to put his hands, feeling his body grow tingly and warm and fidgeting restlessly; his eyes darting around to see if anyone paid them any attention. His mind locked on the events inside the cabin only a few hours ago. When she was so close. When he had been sure that she was going to . . . but that was ridiculous. Preposterous. Swallowing, he checked again to be sure no one noticed his burning cheeks or the easy way April leaned her weight on him and what it was doing to him.

All eyes were on Mikey as he began his spooky story. "Once upon a time . . . "

Raph groaned and dropped his head in his hand. "C'mon. Once upon a  _time_?"

"Once upon a time," he overrode Raph's complaints, "there was this sweet, adorable, totally cute, and awesome skate-boarding boy who loved to swim in lakes and ponds and oceans and –"

"We get it," Raph barked.

"Shhh," April admonished. Raph ducked his head and mumbled a quick apology. To Michelangelo she said, "Go on, Mikey."

"Yeah, Shhh!" Mikey wagged his finger in front of his lips violently.

Raph glared at him.

He sat back. "Now, where was I? Oh yeah! The little boy who had the world's most charming smile," he said, grinning and pointing to himself, "and the brightest blue eyes swam around his favorite pond. But his strict older brother, who was always bossing him around and acting better than him, even though he wasn't at all, but maybe with some katas, but even then not that much better, really –"

Leo sighed.

"-kept telling him to get out. That his time was up for swimming. The angelic little boy begged for just five more minutes. I mean, is five minutes so much to ask?"

He sent a pointed look to Leo who rolled his eyes.

"The bossy-pants finally left him alone. What a relief! It was heaven! But lurking in one dark corner of the pond, where it was all gross and full of algae and leeches and moss and  _leeches_ ," he paused for dramatic effect. "Something evil crawled along the bottom of the pond. Bubbles started to . . . bubble up and the adorable little turtle, er, I mean,  _boy_ , didn't notice as he swam in perfect circles, that a hulking, slimy, leech-covered,  _ugly_  creature was coming closer and closer. The boy suddenly felt something hot on the back of his neck. Breath. Bad breath. It smelled like rotten eggs and moldy cabbage! He turned around to see a disgusting, creepy face staring down at him, breathing that rancid breath all over him. A pair of glowing green eyes stared at him from under a red moss-covered mask, his shell dripping in fat leeches."

At this point, Raphael blinked, piecing together what his little brother was saying. He straightened where he sat as Casey burst out laughing.

"Moldy cabbage,  _bahahah!_  That's about right!" Casey howled.

"What the . . .  _Mikey!_ " Michelangelo ducked as Raph's hand came around, slapping him upside the head.

"Ow, hey!"

Splinter sighed and flicked his tail. He busied himself by poking at the fire.

"What? Dude, you're scary. Especially in the morning with that breath,  _phew_!"

"Why you!" Raphael growled and swung again as Leo quickly interceded by slapping his hands against his legs. " _Ahem_ , I would like to tell a tale."

Raphael pushed Mikey hard once more with his foot as Mikey twisted to avoid being shoved into the fire. He scrambled closer to where April and Donnie sat. Raph then turned to punch Casey on the arm for continuing to guffaw. Leo cleared his throat again and Raph settled down only after a stern glance from Splinter. He folded his arms and shot a glare at Mikey and then fidgeted on the log. Casey muffled his chuckling from behind one fist, biting his knuckle with the effort.

Splinter nodded to his son. "Proceed, Leonardo."

"Thank you, Sensei." He sat up straighter, positioning his hands on his bent knees.

Raph rolled his eyes and Mikey sniggered, mumbling "Teacher's pet," to April who made a scandalized sound before nudging him with her elbow. She put her index finger over her lips and shushed him.

As the group quieted down, Leonardo began. Shadows from the flames flickered around his face and shoulders. His voice was soft and sober. "There lived, in the ancient times, a lone samurai. Sworn to honor, bound by loyalty to his clan. He traveled distant lands fighting evil."

"Like demons!?" Mikey interrupted. "Cool."

"As long as they're not cabbage-breathed, green-eyed pond-monsters, right, Mikey?" Casey said under his breath but loud enough for the entire group to hear followed by more sniggering from Mikey. Don could not help but huff out a short laugh. Raph growled and balled his fists. Mikey stuck his tongue out at Raph who lobbed a fallen marshmallow at Mikey's face. Mikey stretched and caught it in his mouth with a grin.

Chewing loudly, he waved, "Thanks!"

"I hope you know that fell in deer shi-."

Splinter warned,  _"Raphael."_

Raph swallowed back the rest of the word and ducked his head.

Leo pressed his lips together, keeping silent until everyone finally quieted, then went on, "The noble samurai spent his life fighting the forces of evil wherever they threatened the innocent . . . under the watch of his master, a kind leader of the people who everyone loved."

His eyes took on a vague look as he stared out into the darkness surrounding his family, picturing the tale vividly in his mind as he spoke. "He crossed blazing deserts and towering mountains, rivers of fire and ice, grassy planes that spanned the horizons, seeking truth and justice. The truth of honor. The justice of, er, justice," he bungled and coughed.

"Erm, for days he wandered. The days turned to weeks and then months and he meditated on all the teachings of his incredible and wise master," he glanced at Splinter and then shyly dropped his gaze back down.

Raph stared at him with a bored, irritated expression, rolling his eyes to meet Casey's who was equally growing restless. He stifled a yawn and crossed his long legs at the ankles, folding his arms over his stomach.

"His katanas were forged by the greatest weapons masters of all time. Sharp and light, they could cut through anything in the warrior's way. One day the sky opened up and a message came to him while under deep meditation. The truth of honor was to be found only if he were strong enough to carry out the journey. A journey that would test his skills like none other, a journey that was spiritual and righteous…"

Leo continued describing in detail the virtues that this mysterious warrior would have to possess in order to fulfill his quest to find the ultimate truth of honor. Minutes rolled by as he continued listing the requirements that all true heroes must possess. Donnie and Mikey exchanged disbelieving glances as April, in a daze, stared at the dancing flames in front of her, obviously not listening anymore. Her fingers causally rolled up and down the top of Donnie's foot, making him squirm unperceivably. Casey sat with his head bowed, chin to his chest, apparently dozing.

"Yeah, Leo, this isn't a scary story," Raph pointed out bluntly awakening everyone from their personal reveries. He went on, peeved, "I don't even think it's a  _story_. More like some kinda cheap foreign movie too artsy to make any sense, but goes on and on . . ." he rolled his hand in a circle for emphasis.

Startled from his recitation, Leo blinked and looked around. "What?"

Casey snorted and looked up as though roused from a deep sleep. "Forty-two!" he blurted. Then, rubbing his eye asked blearily, "Oh is he done?" He blinked, "Me next!"

"Er," Donatello cut him off. He gestured with both hands to April. "Why don't we give April her turn."

She twisted and blinked up at him, smiling her thanks as she gave his knee a squeeze and any further coherent words lodged at the back of his throat. He managed a strangled gurgle and an awkward nod.

Casey flushed and rubbed the back of his head. "Oh, y-yeah. Um, right. Go ahead, Red." He composed himself and leaned forward, bracing one hand on his bent knee, giving her a challenging look. "Let's see if you can scare  _me_."

Raph looked from Casey to April. "Yeah," he added and scooted closer to Casey. "Try an' scare  _us_."

"But . . . I wasn't finished," Leo said and no one paid him any attention.

Splinter spoke softly to him, "Your story was very good, my son."

Leo nodded and tried not to pout. But it was difficult. No one ever listened to him. His mind wandered back to the lone samurai of his story. What did his family know about good stories? They'd cut him off just before the warrior ran into the seductive demon princess with the army of the undead.

"Okay," April said as she adjusted herself, sitting cross-legged, still up against Donatello's leg and the log. She raised her hands as if to brace them, "This is a . . . True - Story."

"Oooh, really!?" Mikey asked and unconsciously moved closer to Raph who was staring at April with an arrogant look matched by Casey's cocked brow and smirk. He huffed and muttered, "Yeah, right."

April nodded, ignoring the rude comment. "There was this girl at school. Years ago, and she disappeared."

Mikey made a soft squeak and Leo raised his head, paying full attention now that the story in his mind had wrapped up with the warrior taming the wild demon princess, making her his queen and defeating her zombie hoards.

"No one really knew her or liked her. She was kinda weird. A loner. An outcast."

The arrogant look slid off Raphael's face. He blinked and softly frowned, sobering and listening intently. Splinter shook his head sadly. Even in the human world, surrounded by those just the same, there was isolation and loneliness.

"But, that wasn't exactly true." April tried and failed to hide the corners of her mouth rising as she noticed their riveted postures. "There was  _someone_  who noticed her. And I mean,  _really_  noticed. Or so the story goes."

"Her mom," Mikey suggested. "I bet it was her mom. Mom's do that," he pointed out matter-of-factly.

"Mikey,  _shaddap_ ," Raph hissed and hit him with the edge of his foot.

"She was an orphan," April clarified. She paused and licked her lips. Her mind racing with developing details.

The group grew subdued and the fire crackled. Outside the campfire, fireflies began to flicker in the umbra, glowing greenish-yellow in the blue light of deepening evening. Somewhere in the forest an owl hooted. The distant sound of the lake water lapping against the shore reached them.

April went on, slowly, "It was October, I think, when Meghan, that was her name, had to stay after school to make up some work she missed while she was out sick. Only, her locker stuck and it took forever to get it unjammed. Then she missed the late bus and thought there was another one scheduled, so she sat at the school all alone. Waiting and waiting until it got dark."

April gazed around with wide eyes. "But she wasn't alone for  _too_  long. Because she was approached by this young guy who was all smiling and friendly and he told her he'd give her a lift home. He sat with her a while and seemed to know all about her and her school. She wasn't sure. She knew it wasn't a good idea, but it had been a long day and finally she decided there was no harm in going with the guy. He seemed really nice and she even thought she recognized him from school. She thought he was a student tutor or a teacher's aid and the more she thought about it, the more she was sure."

April shook her head sadly and shrugged. "Meghan was lonely. She was too naïve and foolishly, she went with him."

"Oh no! Never go with strangers!" Mikey said, now nearly on top of Raph, grabbing his arm. Raph shoved him aside with an irritated noise.

"Well, she didn't know it, but, the reason this nut-job knew all about her was that this guy was watching her. All the time."

Donatello cocked his head. Suddenly sharply aware of what April was saying on a level the rest of his family weren't tuned in to.

"He was obsessed with her. Crazy. He didn't go to that school. He didn't work with any of the teachers! But he was watching her, like  _all_  the time. Following her around like a creep. That's why Meghan thought she knew him! She had seen him here and there. Peeking at her from the shadows. Tracing her every step. Biding his time."

Donatello tilted his head further, listening with an ever deepening frown. Butterflies dived-bombed the digesting s'mores in his stomach. The s'mores retaliated by firing canons filled with stomach acid.

"It was horrible. Can you imagine?" She shuddered. "This creepy guy, just stalking this poor girl." April rubbed her arms hard, cheeks colored. "I mean, who does that? Follow some unsuspecting girl around day after day? Wherever she went?!"

"M-Maybe he h-had a good reason," Donnie offered feebly as he fidgeted, feeling the back of his neck heat, face going dark crimson but thanks to the flickering fire before him no one seemed to notice as all faces snapped to him. April twisted around to stare up at him. He swallowed. "Er, I mean, m-maybe he just wanted t-to talk with her and was a-afraid. It can be quite intimidating to initiate a conversation when -"

"Meghan's skeleton was found in a ditch a few months later." She glanced quickly around, "Allegedly. Er, so I heard."

"What a maniac," Casey said with disgust, screwing his face up. "If I saw someone following a girl around like that, I'd bash his skull in!" He punched his palm with his fist.

"Me too," Raph vowed and high-fived Casey. "I'd break him in half!"

"Yeah! Die, creepy stalkers!"

"You'd never have to worry about anything like that with me around, Red!" Casey promised and April beamed at him.

Donatello stared at his brother and Casey for a moment, then down at April, horrified as he recalled his 'stalker-like' behavior not that long ago when April had first abandoned him and his brothers. When she started to hang around with this punk and his stupid bandana, and hockey gear and failing grades. Still, he knew it wasn't the best approach to trying to bridge the gap between him and April. Even if it was in the best intentions of making sure she wasn't being targeted by random mutants or the Foot. Still . . . If she ever found out how often he'd followed her . . . He shrunk into himself.

"We'd set a trap . . ." Casey was saying much to Raph's and now, Michelangelo's, delight and interest.

Before his brothers could chime in further with detailed descriptions of how they would dispatch someone caught following a girl, he spoke up, loudly in a high-pitched cry, "My turn!"

"Aw!" Raph complained.

"Th-There's a scary story that I heard about once." He rambled on, doing his best to distract everyone from the uncomfortable theme. "I dunno if you heard this one before, April, but if you did, you can just –"

"Can you start already?" Casey grouched, obviously put out for having been interrupted.

"R-Right. Ohkay. There was a couple. Oh, and I believe this is based on accurate information from an actual event as well."

Matched glares were sent from Casey and Raph and Mikey yawned. April tilted her head and blinked. Donatello faltered as he suddenly felt the weight of expectation fall upon him; this mixed with his earlier shame from his past behavior leaving his stomach in knots. Splinter repositioned himself on the log. The movement caught Donnie's eye. He stared stupidly at his father. Splinter raised his brows politely for him to continue.

"Oh! Yes. The . . . The couple. Well, this couple were traveling across country on their honeymoon," Donatello sped on, getting right into it; determined to make the story as thrilling and entertaining as possible for April. But also to show Casey that he knew how to tell a spine-tingling tale. Stewing in the back of his mind that he would've liked Casey to try and stop him from keeping April safe while she was angry with them. Stalker behavior or not. He'd show him a hockey stick was no match for a bo staff and cricket bats were quite uncomfortable when shoved up one's -

Giving himself a mental shake, he went on, "Er, they had encountered some car trouble when the newly-wed noticed the gas gauge had plummeted to empty. It had stuck and while he actually thought there was enough fuel to get him and his wife to their destination, he was mistaken. But he was always doing that, overestimating his knowledge of engine operations and maintenance. Like the hotshot idiot he actually was, always showing off for his wife when he didn't know what he was talking about."

He shot a quick glare in Casey's direction that went unfortunately unnoticed as Casey was whispering something to his sniggering brother. His mouth dropped open. Neither Casey nor Raph were even listening to him! This was the epitome of rudeness.

" _Hmpf_."

He felt a pinch on his thigh.

_"Yeep!"_

April gave him a look that told him to focus.

"Uh, um, they were forced to find a fueling station immediately. It was the dead of night when they finally managed to roll into one. The place was empty. Abandoned. One of those gas stations in the middle of nowhere before you head out into the open country. Located approximately fifty miles from any local towns or residencies, which is approximately eighty point four six seven two kilometers..."

April's impatient sigh caressed his thigh and he jumped.

"SO! Th-The wife had just switched off the radio as a news report informed the public of a criminally insane man that had escaped a mental institution not far from where the unsuspecting couple had stalled out."

April shivered and pulled herself closer to Donatello's leg, happy to have him rolling along, getting more involved in telling the tale. She didn't understand why he wasn't rambling on like he usually did. For some reason, stopping and stuttering as though he were nervous. She buried her smile into her shoulder. Well, maybe she had an inkling. April closed her eyes. Listening. She loved the sound of his voice. The more involved in whatever he was talking about the richer his tone would become.

There was nothing better than Donatello sharing some bit of information he was excited about. Or just talking about the weather. Chatting about bacteria. Mumbling, half asleep into his T-phone. Even sneezing. April couldn't get enough, especially now that she'd accepted her feelings for the lanky mutant boy. She had hoped this little vacation planned by her father and expedited by her excited involvement might give her some quality time to spend with Donatello. Being here, close to him now, with the firelight dancing in his dark eyes and the moonlight playing along his shoulders, she glanced up again and sighed. Yeah, it was the best thing in her life. Certainly the happiest moment since he'd cured her dad.

Awareness of April's body pressing closer to his leg blotted out clarity. He went still and lost his train of thought. He looked down to see her looking up at him with a strange light in her eyes. He blinked, recalling the very same expression was there inside the cabin when she'd . . .  _She was going to kiss me_ , his pounding heart reminded him as he drowned in her smoldering gaze.

Splinter poked the fire briskly and a spark rose up and a twig snapped, evicting Donatello from his daze. His face shot up and he glanced around. Everyone was waiting with baited breath for him to go on. Almost everyone. Raph was swatting at a pair of fireflies with ever growing outrage while Casey sat scowling at him. Clearly unhappy. His mouth worked for a bit before he found his voice again. He swallowed roughly.

"Uh, the-the husband starts to get out of the car when his wife asks him not to." Donatello, surprised at the steadiness of his voice went on, "He tells her not to be afraid. That there's nothing to be scared of. That she's being silly to worry. He is just going to fill the gas tank right outside the vehicle and if it made her feel better he would knock three times on the car to show her he was fine."

He felt April's hand snake around his leg and hold tight, making him sputter and choke. Casey narrowed his eyes as his mouth dropped open in silent reproach. Donatello felt his legs turn to water and quiver. His fingers jerked as he gripped the log. Certain parts of him tightened uncomfortably. The irrational urge to jump up and dash into the forest and leap into the lake clawed at him.

Mikey leaned forward, cheeks supported by both hands. "What happened next, bro! Don't leave us hanging!"

"Hanging?! Uh, erm, r-right. Wh-Where was I?"

Casey made an impatient sound that Raphael echoed. He brought his large hands together in an attempt to murder the innocent bugs. Luckily, they flitted over his head and back into the safety of the dark forest beyond. Leo and Splinter remained patiently waiting for him to continue. If Splinter noticed how flustered he was over April's proximity, he didn't show it. And Donnie hoped to god that Splinter didn't notice. Donatello's pulse pounded in his throat as his focus remained on April's soft hand curled around his shin, her fingers pressing gently into his calf. Her curves pressed against the outside of his leg took precedence over his brain. All other functions ceased to operate. All others except one. And that was the last system he needed springing to life in front of his father and brothers.

"Don't stop now," April murmured.

_"Haah."_

Donatello clamped his eyes shut and forced from his mind the heated image her words created. It didn't budge. His voice cracked as he rushed on, eyes shut tightly, "So, the-the  _husband_ ," he cleared his throat and coughed. "He was uh, outside, filling the tank. Right? Yes. I believe that's where I was. Uh, and the wife was waiting inside the car. Sitting there. Helpless and uh, very nervous. Oh, so nervous. S-Scared out of her wits, actually. She didn't know what was happening. She just had no idea." He started to pant.

"Huh?" Mikey looked around, confused.

"Wait. Donnie, you said he was just outside filling the tank," Leonardo supplied. "She'd have known that, wouldn't she?"

Blinkly rapidly he stared at Leo. Leo, his steadfast and calm older brother. If anyone knew how to remain stoic under pressure it would be him. If only Donne knew how he did it. As though hoping for some evolved strain of osmosis to develop spontaneously, he stared at his brother with an intensity that made Leo cock one brow and glance around.

"Yes. Of course. S-She did. Ah, she did. She knew what he was doing. Knew it really well," he breathed. "But he had  _no idea_  what he was doing to her."

Mikey blinked, completely lost now. He pointed to the ground, mouth open, trying to puzzle out what just happened in the story. Donatello ran a trembling hand over his face and nervously laughed despite himself. The urge to run was now a panicked need held at bay only by the very thing that was causing the irrational desire in the first place: April's bare arm wrapped around his leg, her softness pressed against him. Every line . . . every curve . . . Donatello barely suppressed a whimper.

"Wait," Leo chopped the air gently with one hand. "If he was filling the tank, uh . . ."

Master Splinter, unable to help it, chuckled. Leo blinked at him and Splinter coughed.

"BoooOOOOrrrring!" Casey cried in a mock yawn.

Raphael laughed. Donatello dropped his hand and scowled at the two of them. Casey was just annoying, but his brother was a down-right traitor.

"For someone supposedly so smart, you sure don't know how to tell a story," Casey snorted. "I mean, you're  _mangling_  it."

"Wait . . . what happens? Is that all?" Mikey asked thoroughly confused. Leo blinked at him, equally lost.

Casey snorted and said rapidly, "The lady hears her husband knock on the car three times. But then he never comes back. So, she gets out and finds that her husband is dead." Casey swiped his hand across his throat in a chopping motion. He grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled it back and up, sticking his tongue out. "Hung."

April released Donatello's leg. "Casey," she admonished him. "It was Donnie's turn to tell a story."

"What!?" Casey raised his hands up in surrender. He shrugged, laughing off her anger. "How long does it take to tell a simple urban legend?" She continued to glare at him and he eased back, "I mean, c'mon, Red." He leaned to one side and looked closer at Donnie. "Uh, besides, I think he needs to go get some water or something."

April turned to Donnie. A painful smile plastered on his face, "'M fine," he wheezed, blinking slowly and giving his head a slight shake of denial.

Raph hollered, "Maybe he's constipated." Casey howled in laughter. Mikey giggled, "Constipated."

Donnie closed his eyes slowly, continued to grin like an ape. "Fine," he repeated.

Casey swayed and wiped one eye; he grabbed Raph's shoulder and gave it a shake. "Hey, now I'm telling mine and it's gonna blow your mind!"

"Finally, a  _good_  story," Raph snarked and did a fist bump with Casey.

"My Uncle Sean told me this. It really happened to him." April shifted back around, leaning her back against the log and still giving Casey a perturbed look. The boy seemed pleased to have even this attention as he jibed, "And unlike  _some_  people's stories,  _snk_ , this one  _is_  true."

April pursed her lips and Casey guffawed, pleased with himself. He clapped and rubbed his hands together. "Yeah, he lives up in Jersey. Near Camden. Works the night-shift with a delivery service. So he's out on the road a lot at night," he emphasized.

Casey looked around, relishing the attention. Especially from April. His grin widened, revealing the gap and he winked at her. April couldn't help but roll her eyes and chuckle. It was hard to stay mad at the guy.

"So this one time he's out there driving along the Pine Barrens and he blew a tire." Casey made an exploding motion with both hands. "And while he's out changing the tire, he noticed some weird looking tracks. Well, my Uncle Sean, he's a hunter, you know? So he knows his tracks. But these aren't like anything he's ever seen before."

Casey grimaced and shook his head as the fire popped and crackled. His face moved from one friend to another. Slowly, he moved off the log and knelt on the ground, motioning with his hand over the bare dirt. April had to admit, the guy knew how to capture an audience.

"My uncle had to see what they were. Just lookin' at them made his hair on the back of his neck rise. Gave him goose-bumps all up and down his arms. He got down real close and noticed how they were all, like, misshapen hoofprints in the mud and just to the side of the road, not too far from the prints was a dead animal. A deer. It hadn't been hit by a car or nothing. Something had  _killed_  it. Ripped it right in half."

Leo and April gasped.

"Oh that poor deer," Mikey said, getting upset. Without looking at him, Raph nudged him to be quiet, eyes locked on Casey. April's arm had woven around his leg again. She squeezed it tighter and all he could hear was the thundering sound of his blood racing in his ears. At once he wished she'd stop and never let go. At least everyone was listening to Casey Jones' ridiculous tale.

Casey went on, gleaming eyes growing wide, "All of a sudden he hears this bloodcurdling scream. It's super loud and scared the crap outta my uncle. He thought someone or something was being torn apart! He told me that he jumped up just in time to see something horrible run across the pavement right in front of his truck! It ran its claws over the front of my uncle's bumper and hood. Big as a kangaroo with a snake neck and had these leathery wings that flapped as it ran on two legs. It raced across the road and my uncle dove into his truck and peeled out. He drove all the way home with a flat tire."

He sat back with a huff. Looking around he added, "Ruined the rim."

"Whoa," Mikey murmured.

"True story? Your uncle had to have made that up," April teased.

"Nuh-uh. No way. The Jersey Devil is real. Everyone knows that."

Donatello snorted in derision.

Casey sneered, "Oh yeah? Well, I remember going with him to buy a new set of tires. The bumper of his pick-up was all scratched up like a bobcat had used it as a scratching post."

"You said it killed a deer?" Raph asked before Donatello could voice whatever it was he nearly said next, morbidly caught up in the details of the story and not wanting his brainy brother to ruin the moment with stupid science and lame-o logic.

Casey gave Donnie one more challenging glare before turning to Raph and nodding. Donatello stared him down, not blinking until Casey had turned to his brother.

_Take that. No one can out-stare a turtle. Especially a mutant turtle._

"Cut in half? How?"

He shrugged. "Just the way the Jersey Devil kills things. Tore it apart."

Leo gulped. He and Splinter exchanged looks. Mikey shuddered, "Ew."

Raph thought a minute. "So, its guts and organs and stuff were probably hanging out and spilled all over the road."

Mikey covered his mouth, dry heaving a little. "Dude!"

"Nah, the Devil eats all that. Starts with popping out the eyeballs and chewing on 'em like bubble gum."

"Barf," April said and giggled. Donatello closed his eyes as the sensation of her giggling body sent fireworks off behind his eyelids; igniting a spiral of heat in his stomach. The earlier annoyance at Casey evaporated. His fingers fidgeted on either side of him. She glanced up at him and he chuckled nervously. "Boys are so gross."

"Yeah, uh, we're absolutely disgusting," he agreed without realizing what he was saying.

Raphael wrinkled his snout. "Yeah, I could see that. Get the good parts down, first, then go for the guts. Cool. Now, I'm goin' to tell my story." Raph announced and cracked his neck first to one side then the other. "It's also about a monster. One that eats . . . little turtles." He narrowed his eyes and curled his lip in Mikey's direction.

"S-Starting with the eyeballs?" Mikey squeaked going slightly pale, scrunching up his knees close to his chest.

"Oh god," Leo said, and folded his arms, disapprovingly. Knowing Raph this was going to get gory, fast.  _This_  was the type of entertainment his brothers enjoyed. He just didn't understand their tastes.

"Nope, you wouldn't be that lucky."

Mikey swallowed audibly.

"It lives in the abandoned sewer lines that nobody ever goes down. You know which one I'm talking about, right, Mikey?"

Mikey nodded, eyes huge.

"Well, one time I thought I saw something, like an octopus crawling up the side of the wall." He cocked his head and considered the sky above. "Yeah, about two weeks ago. Right after you went skateboarding when you were supposed to do the dishes."

"Raph!" Mikey's face shot to Leo who looked shocked then furious. "I asked you to cover for me."

"I did. But I think it's important that you know something."

Mikey's gaze bounced from Leo to Raph. "What. What is it? What do I need to know?"

"I think you weren't alone when you came back."

"Wh-What?"

"This thing. I think it followed you."

"Bro, don't tease me."

"Nah, I'm pretty sure you're right. What would I know?" He picked at a scab on his knee. "Then again. There was that news report about the little boy." He looked up. "I'm sure you heard about it. He had a couple pet turtles. One was just a baby."

"Raphael," Leonardo said, his tone chiding.

Splinter's ear flicked, but he allowed his son the freedom to continue on with his fiction.

Raph ignored him. His voice was smooth and flowing, low and almost seductive, drawing them all in. "The news said that the little thing was torn to pieces. Its insides scooped out like a shelled clam."

Donatello frowned, feeling his stomach curdle. April's face grew whiter the more Raph went on. Mikey's eyes continued to widen. The firelight caught in the blue, dancing with disbelief. His face split into a manic smile.

"Y-You're such a liar, Raph."

"Am I? The worst part of the whole thing was that the little boy, the owner of the turtles? He kept trying to tell people that there was this thing that crawled out from under the storm drain near his parents' front door. That it looked like an octopus. Like that thing I thought I saw in the shadows, following you into your room."

Michelangelo's throat worked. He glanced around, but all eyes were locked on Raphael.

"Things like that monster are tricky, Mikey," Raph purred as Casey leaned forward, eyes glittering with glee at the gruesome tale. "What it likes to do is . . . hide . . . and wait. You know. For the right moment. So it can grab ya when you're least expecting it. Right when you're goin' to bed after you brush your teeth. It'll be waitin' under your bed. And when you're just about to climb in all snug with your teddy bear -"

Mikey shivered.

Raph shook his head sadly. His voice dropped to a whisper. Everyone leaned in unconsciously.

"It especially likes little turtles with big blue eyes stuffed with too many marshmallows."

He looked from each of them and stopped on Michelangelo who sat rigid with fright.

"And once it grabs ya, you can't get free. It pulls you under the bed where it can dig into your body to get to its favorite meal . . . your  _liver_!" Raph shouted and lunged forward, grabbing at Mikey.

Mikey fell back, nearly into the fire, screaming. "GAH!  _You jerk-wad!"_

Casey erupted into hysterical laughter as Splinter reprimanded Raphael, echoed by Leonardo chastising him for such graphic details in mixed company. The two brothers wrestled until Splinter rose up. Raph slapped Mikey upside the head gently and batted away his hands as Mikey tried to return the attack.

"Man, I got you so bad," he laughed. Casey slapped him on the shell, "Good one, Raph!"

Mikey brushed himself off. "Very funny. NOT."

Leo rose up next to Splinter. "Are you going to bed, Master Splinter?"

Splinter's lowered his head, waiting until Raphael and Mikey settled down once more, until Casey's laughter subsided to broken chuckling and Donatello shifted his gaze from April's arms around his leg to his father, swallowing self-consciously and fidgeting with his hands. Until all fell quiet around the flickering flames, the snapping twigs, the sizzling embers; the repeating chitter of nocturnal insects, singing their primordial melody in time with the whispering of cool air slipping through grasping leaves; the haunting hoot of an owl; and finally, the brittle, sharp cry of some animal befalling the fate of all prey in a predatory world.

"No," he said quietly.

He turned his head and the firelight caught in his amber eyes, igniting them in hues of gold and copper; filled with bittersweet mirth and mysteries and unknown wisdom, but also sorrow, vast and engulfing; this ancient soul; the enigma that was their sensei; their father.

"Now, I will tell you a scary story."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi, sweet readers! First, I want to thank you all for your patience. I've had some family health scares that have kept me away, as some of you may know - but everything is settling out now, for the most part! I'm just so happy to be here at my laptop writing again. Second, I wanted to apologize for the long delay - you know that isn't like me! ;'D
> 
> Would you believe my youngest son and my daughter helped me with this chapter? XD Mikey's story was shaped by my son (he's 9) who was giggling like mad at what I had planned with Mikey's tale. My daughter (BitterShadow) helped me decide the order in which they told their tales as well as having Casey interrupt Donnie so very rudely. Did I mention her fav turtle is Donnie? Oh and she loves a good love triangle. Heehee
> 
> As always, I will do my best to get Lost in the Gloaming, Love's Causality and of course, The Tender Trap III updated really soon. My class is ending, my mom is doing better and I should finally have a bunch of free time to spend doing what I love most - writing TMNT ff!
> 
> One last thing. I loved writing this chapter and the next one will have a little surprise in store. Thanks to the lovely theherocomplex - you should really read her stuff - well, you'll have to wait and see - for now, I'll just say Splinter has a hell of a tale to tell and it's related to Guitar and Video Games - go on, go check it out. XD
> 
> Oh yeah, and that was a Douglas Adams reference. hee


	6. Splinter's Tale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A HUGE shout-out to theherocomplex for this chapter. Not only do I owe her mad props for giving me permission to use her incredible folk tale that she created and developed and allowed me to use for Splinter's tale, (which blows me away, because I thought it was a real folk tale from Japan! XD) but she helped me straighten up this chapter and make it the lovely thing it is now, thanks to her insight and guidance.
> 
> Splinter's tale comes directly from her series Guitar and Video Games. Find it at: theherocomplex DOT tumblr DOT com slash gavg or PM me over at DA and I can give you her link - stupid ff not letting me link right, grumble grumble...
> 
> Anyway, it is a MUST read for fans of TMNT. It is thrilling and heartbreaking and lovely and hysterical and romantic and so much more. I can't begin to tell you the emotions I feel when I read her story. It's fantastic and I cannot recommend it enough. I dedicate this story to you, theherocomplex and to all of you dreamers who want to see our boys find love. Somehow, someday, at any cost.

The forest seemed to close in, creeping canopy blocked the stars as the dark sky clotted with storm clouds, illuminated opaquely along the edges by silver moonlight. The fire reached and dipped. Fingerlike flames grasped hopelessly through the chilled air. Embers undulated; alive with motion. The fire hissed; whispering secrets only known within the primordial circles of things like moss and spore and rust and ice. The ancient wisdom remembered only in the pauses between heartbeats, when breath is neither expelled nor drawn, the stillness where the truth lies dormant, nearly forgotten. Where the old things sleep, biding their time.

Master Splinter drew himself up, patiently drawing out their anticipation before he began. He stood, hands clasped comfortably before him. A teacher allowing students to focus.

Shadows coiled around them, stalking like ethereal panthers, sliding in and out of the flickering glow between the children. Stopping long enough to tickle with chilled breath; enough to cause a quiver, a fidget; fingertips along the outside of an arm, rubbing away prickled flesh. Even the chirruping insects and restless night animals grew sullen but alert, as though settling to listen.

A stillness brimming with tingling expectation fell upon the group. Eyes flicked to one another for reassurance amidst the uneasy atmosphere that Splinter had created by merely standing and announcing, so softly, that he, too, would share a tale of horror. Then his subsequent quiet, making them wonder just what awaited. And in each of their hearts, a flicker of giddy fright fluttered. Smiles laced with anxiety and skittish apprehension passed among them. A shiver, shared and invisible swept through them and each, in turn, moved slowly to cramp and huddle closer.

Sitting now solitary on his log, with a sudden, sharp pang, Leonardo felt the distance between he and the rest of his family. The need to be closer had him edging his way off the log. He half-crawled until he sat on the other side of Donatello's right leg. To April's left, Michelangelo pressed, by inches, closer, until April draped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him into a partial embrace. Raph and Casey remained on their shared spot, leaning forward, side by side on the log, eyes glued on Splinter. But as he began the audience froze, riveted. The cadence of his softly accented words flowed over them, seeping with mystery and wonder.

"Years ago, as a child, perhaps not much older than you, I heard many tales. Many legends. But one in particular remained lodged within my mind and spirit; its warning both a blessing and a curse. For I have had to live my life with the knowledge this tale tells. And it is terrible indeed."

He paused here, lowered his head. All eyes were trained upon him, bodies taunt, heartbeats thudding. Donatello glanced down to where April leaned against his leg, her hair brushing his thigh enough to distract him from Master Splinter's voice. But only for a moment. As he continued, Donatello swallowed and focused on his father and the supposed terrible tale he was about to share.

"It is an old story. One that was ancient long before civilization erupted upon the continents, when dreams and myth blended with reality, when monsters roamed forests and mountains, swam the ocean depths and ruled all."

He moved slowly along the side of the campfire so that with each step the shadows ran swirling patterns across his robe and fur; sometimes concealing his face from them; contorting it strangely in the darkness. And as he'd shift in his pacing, his eyes, alight from the dancing flames, would seem burnished in rosy amber, reflecting like twin gold discs, removed and floating; adding to the fantastical feel of the moment, the surreal atmosphere of their father, now turned storyteller.

"From this time a beast that defies comprehension lurks still among us. Stalking the corners of nightmares. It takes many guises but its true form is familiar, if not exaggerated by its size. An enormous white boar. Were it to stand here, and I never wish to even murmur such a thing, as to stir its curiosity, but for explanation's sake," he lifted one arm to demonstrate the size, but then shook his head. He gestured to himself. "As large if not larger, than myself."

Mikey's eyes grew round as they darted from Master Splinter to April. Casey and Raph twisted to gauge the size, each imaging a boar as large and imposing as the rat-man, then exchanged nervous glances. Leo sat still and full of contemplation while Donatello did his best not to scoff, slowly folding his arms across his chest defensively, his keen mind calculating the possibilities; biology versus folklore with biology in the lead as he discounted his father's story as nothing but bunk. Entertaining but nothing to take seriously.

Splinter continued, "The origins of the White Boar and its first marked existence is shrouded by so many versions no one truly knows which are true and which are not. But the fact that it has lingered for so long and remains to be . . . is something to never doubt."

At this, Donatello shook his head and Splinter caught the movement. Ah, his doubting child. Ever only believing what was tangible or tested by theories of men. He, so young, so confident in what was fact and what was fiction, knew so little of the actual world. A world full of inconsistencies and serendipity. Enough wonder to fire the imaginations of countless generations. Donatello should know better. Even after all they had seen and lived through. Splinter huffed softly through his nose. His stubborn son. Splinter's eyes fell upon the girl leaning next to his son. So clever and open. This one may yet open his child's eyes.

He went on, "It is not an ordinary creature made of flesh and blood and bone as we. It is near godlike in power and its evil knows no bounds. It hunts eternally. Its appetite is never-ending. It's hunger is an abyss. It thrives on its trickery and cleverly spun lies. Luring in the unsuspecting victims, tricking them so masterfully. The White Boar seeks out the weak of mind, the brittle of spirit. When one is most vulnerable, it manipulates, promising all you could ever wish for, your deepest heart's desire . . ."

Donatello blinked feeling somehow pinned in place by these words, as though somewhere, somehow, in some other place a ghost had trailed fingertips along the rim of his gravestone. His eyes flicked to April for reassurance, but the cold within his center grew with an unsettling twist, coiled into him like a corkscrew. Squirming where he sat, Donnie returned his attention to Splinter as his father finished cryptically, ". . . and then . . . it  _feeds_."

He felt April shiver and instinctively unfolded his arms, reached down and placed a hand gently on her shoulder. She gazed up at him and gave him a fleeting smile. Boldly, he squeezed her shoulder before looking again at his father.

"There is no escaping the Boar. Once it awakens to its never-ending hunger, once it decides to play again with the mortal lives surrounding it, there is no hope. Its only opponent, the Black Bull, too weakened from centuries of fighting this evil sadly cannot react swiftly enough when choosing a champion. The Black Bull is a young god compared to the ageless White Boar. And the White Boar wallows in deceit and cunning. It desolates all in its path, seeking pleasure where it can only find it, in the devouring. There is nothing to stop it."

"But," Michelangelo's voice, sounding small and young, spoke over the crackling fire. "What about the champion?"

"Yes, Michelangelo. The Black Bull chooses one who is singular in heart and mind, both brave and kind, generous and noble."

"So, then that guy, the champion, he or, uhm," a glance to April and amended, "she can stop it, right?"

Splinter tilted his head, as if thinking, then said to clarify, "The champion may prove to be a  _challenge_  to the White Boar. Highly unlikely would he or she be able to vanquish this evil. It is that great. But also, sadly, to be chosen by the Black Bull, there is a steep price. The champion must be willing to give all they have for love, and for no thanks or gain whatsoever. Not many can become that which is sorely needed. If the champion fails then there is no hope. Nothing to stand in its way."

His eyes fell on Leonardo, who sat up straighter as if ready to be called upon; Master Splinter's voice dipped, the cadence slowing, rumbling, "No hero courageous enough."

Leonardo's eyes dropped into the fire, a soft frown puckering his brow as he mused on the saddened note in his father's tone. The prickle of worry at the back of his neck. All the time wondering about this story. And whether it  _was_  just a story . . . or not. He shivered and wished secretly for Karai, then immediately banished the thought; looking about as though someone may have read his errant thought.

Then on to Donatello, a warning lacing Splinter's carefully chosen words; a caution, "No mind clever enough."

Donatello swept his eyes from Splinter's intense gaze. He tipped his chin slightly to one side as if refuting by body language the very idea that intellect could be defeated by such a monstrosity. A sudden urge to stand up and demand this nonsense to be brought to an end raced through him, surprising him. He would never dare command Master Splinter in such a way. A nugget of fear had developed within the icy brick lingering in his stomach. Irrational and crippling. One he ignored.

Splinter allowed Donatello his denial. Then said to April and Mikey, "No spirit wily, quick nor compassionate enough." Mikey and April looked to one another, giving each other a nervous smile before snuggling tighter and giggling. As if just being close enough, happy enough, may deter such scary imaginings like the White Boar from their hearts and minds.

"Don't worry," Mikey whispered bravely.

"I'm not," she giggled back, but felt the thrill of anxious dread like worms cascading down her spine. She clung tighter to Mikey's trembling form.

And to Raph, Splinter turned and added, his voice softening as though to ease the blow, "No warrior strong enough."

Raphael jutted his chin, then gaped in astonishment. He snapped his mouth shut, pressing his lips together in stubborn refusal to believe anything could withstand strength such as he possessed. Even if Master Splinter didn't believe in him. Or his strength. He'd like to see that stupid boar show up in the New York sewers. Big or not, bacon was bacon. And he'd show that creep who was boss.

And lastly, to Casey, Splinter said, regretfully, "No man skillful nor inventive enough to defeat the Boar. No matter how creative on the battlefield."

Casey blinked at that, he sat forward, bracing his chin onto thumb and bottom lip pressed by his index finger. His mind raced with all the ways he'd attack such an adversary, the different weapons he could use, the traps he might set; never once considering defeat as an option. His youth a shelter in the storm of reality. Splinter was just a rat, after all. He had no idea what Casey could be capable of doing. Everyone underestimated him. Including his father. There'd be no way some big fat pig would get the better of Casey Jones. No way.

Splinter clasped his hands together once more and stilled. Allowing these children to ponder his words. He could tell by the faraway expressions that each of them were considering his words with gravity. The edges of his mouth curled. Then at long last, he ended his tale by murmuring to himself, but loud enough for them all to hear, "I pray we live not to see its return. The last feeding devastated two cities, I cannot image what it would be capable of doing next."

Here Splinter stopped, with head lowered as if in supplication, leaving them all to ponder the terrible possibility. To wonder. Hopefully, he allowed them the satisfaction of hearing a tale frightening enough to leave goose-bumps, but not as awful as to leave trauma. It was an old tale. One he thought of from time to time, when the wind howled insistently, even down into the furthest depths where their lair was tucked from the dangers of the world. Did he believe in such a story . . . ? His heart stumbled with a second beat too closely on top of another, as though for a moment, living in two skins; in two realities, and the other . . . a world filled with peril, with nightmares.

"Whoa, Splinter," Casey said, breaking through his dismal and odd train of thought. The lingering silence snapped like a footfall upon a dry twig. "That was really cool! But no pig is a match for Casey Jones!" He leapt up and balanced on the log, swinging his arms around as if holding a bat. "I'd bash that boar's brains in and make pork chops outta him!"

Raph jumped up as well, shoving Casey off the log with a wicked smile. The boy tumbled back onto his bottom with a grunt and a curse.

"You wish! That boar would eat you first and spit out your stupid bandana!" Raph bunched his muscles, fists held on either side of his head. "What you need when faced with a monster is another monster! GRAH!"

Mikey shivered and nestled closer to April, for once not picking up the gleeful display of aggression and hurrying to participate in the rough fun. He felt safer just where he was, in his friend's protective embrace. Not that he'd ever admit it to anyone present. He didn't like this story. He didn't like the images that flared in his mind with Splinter's rhythmic words. The White Boar, with its searching eyes and dripping snout, tusks yellowed and cracked. Wanting to hurt people by lying; promising what they wanted more than anything, but it was all just a trick. A horrible joke. He shivered again and April rubbed his upper arm, thinking he was cold.

It was Leo who stood up, rising with grace, eyes calm if not a bit arrogant. "Master Splinter. Every enemy has a weak point. A simple strategy to figure that out and a well-aimed katana would easily bring such an adversary down."

Master Splinter merely nodded, a smile playing along his mouth. But whatever else Leonardo was about to proclaim died on his lips as he gazed into his father's somber eyes.

Still, he needed suddenly the reassurance of his teacher, "Isn't that so, Master Splinter? Isn't it?"

Before Master Splinter could respond, Casey retaliated against Raph's continual taunting by barreling into him from over the log. They tumbled and rolled, wrestling and laughing. Until Casey popped Raph on the top of his head as they sat up. Raph shoved him with one arm.

Casey wiped one eye and said, "Some monster, you guys should've felt how this guy was shakin'!" He held up his hands and shook them theatrically to emphasize his point.

"Hey! Was not! That was you, all trembling like a girl, er, no offense April."

April rolled her eyes. "So, let me get this straight, the two of you were snuggled up close enough to feel one another trembling?" she asked, brow cocked. Mikey sniggered, sitting forward.

Raph and Casey shared a shocked glance then quickly shot up, dusting leaves and dirt from themselves. Stuttering and laughing off the accusation.

"Uh, no, n-no way!" Raph stuttered.

"He was, er, I mean, I could just tell he was shakin' by looking at him."

"You were the scared one."

"Takes one to know one."

"That doesn't make sense, Casey. That means you were scared just as much as I was. And I wasn't. But you were."

"Scaredy cat."

"Say that to my face."

"I just did."

Splinter cleared his throat as Donatello dropped his face into his palm. "I think it is time to say goodnight."

Donatello stood up and stretched, reached down to help April to stand when she lifted her hand to him. The others were saying their goodnights. Raph and Casey still muttering to one another about who was more scared; making faces now as they walked towards the cabin. Mikey lingered close behind Leo as they headed back as well, clearly jittery, though he was doing a pretty good job trying to hide how freaked out he was feeling. Donatello shook his head, feeling better now that the story of the White Boar had come to an end. The chilled feeling in his gut had started to thaw.

"I'll take care of the fire." Donatello turned to retrieve the bucket from besides the log.

"I'll help," April offered brightly.

He froze. "Oh, okay. Yeah. That'll . . . thanks."

He held the bucket awkwardly, shifting it this way and that before finally deciding what to do with it and handed it to her. She took it with a smile and together they headed down the clearing towards the lake. Out above the canopy lining the far side of the water, lightning, blue and streaking, crossed the sky. Bull frogs bellowed and an owl hooted.

April swung the pale merrily as she walked, close enough that Donnie, if he were truly bold, could have turned his hand over to hold her own. Instead, he rubbed his hands together and snapped his fingers until he hooked his thumbs into his belt, feeling completely foolish the entire time.

"That was some story, huh?"

"Heh, yeah. Folk tales," Donnie shook his head, a slight disturbance rippled in the back of his mind, like a feather tickling just under his shell where he could not reach. An irritation. With a huff, he added brusquely, "What nonsense."

April stopped walking, brows raised. "You mean you don't believe in stuff like that?"

Donnie chuckled, was she kidding? "Well," he glanced around as though it were obvious as she continued to wait for an answer. "Uh, no. A giant boar that eats in a never-ending lifecycle. I mean, immortality alone is preposterous." He shook his head again and laughed derisively, shoving away the discomfort he felt, wanting only to drop the entire subject. He didn't like this feeling it brought upon him. He didn't understand why it should and chalked it up to general nerves being around April all night, the incident in the cabin and Mikey nearly choking to death earlier. It had been a long day.

"Hm," April only commented and continued along, walking past him. Donatello had the strange sense that he'd somehow messed something up just now. That he'd upset her in some mysterious way.

He caught up to her in two strides. "D-Did I say something wrong?"

She shrugged. "You can believe what you want, Donnie."

He relaxed. It was just his imagination that she was angry. He had to stop overthinking everything when he was around her.

"I dunno. It's just –"

He immediately tensed at the clipped tone, eyes darting from her to the path in front of them.

"Don't you want to believe in things you can't explain? I don't mean like, leprechauns or anything. But . . ." she trailed off, not finishing her thought, leaving him bemused.

But one thing was clear. He was disappointing her. He was dull. He knew it. It wasn't fair. Not over this. He blinked several times, feeling that his next response was very important. But unfortunately for Donatello, his logical, scientific mind refused to play traitor, even for love.

"No. Actually. I really don't." His heart screamed at him to shut the  _hell up._  His brain, unfortunately, fully in control, continued, "If it can't be explained by facts and reasonable experimentation, I can't attribute any sort of belief in it. I just can't."

Again the lightning flared and the world was cast in negatives. Reversed. Disjointed and wrong. The phosphorescence faded, leaving them standing before one another. Donatello stared down at his feet, toes thick in mud at the edge of the lake. Slowly he raised his eyes to her as if afraid of what he may find.

She tilted her head, scrutinizing him. Considering him. Then, as if she'd made up her mind about something, as though she'd taken his measure and found something lacking, she limply handed him the bucket.

He blinked rapidly, took the bucket in both hands, stooped to fill it and happened to look up just as a falling star streaked across the sky. The transient foaming tail evaporating in a matter of seconds. But it was there. It was real. April apparently saw it, too, for she gasped.

He straightened up. He gazed at her. April stood staring up into the sky, hands clasped between her breasts, fingers tight, bottom lip caught between her teeth. The moonlight cast her freckled skin in ivory perfection; her hair pale, merely kissed with the notion of color. His breath hitched in his throat. Her sparkling eyes met his. They were full of an almost painful expectation. His chest swelled. His heart hammered.

"Did you see that?" she whispered.

The moment balanced precariously. Donatello nodded, partly in a daze as he watched her lips more than heard the words. Everything slowed around him. The vision of the falling star imprinted in his mind's eye, what it must have meant to someone like April stamped into his fluttering heart. He could fix this if he were smart. If he knew how to love someone as wonderful and amazing as April O'Neil.

"Did you make a wish?" she asked, in that same low voice, somehow laced with an antiquated quality as though they'd always stood there, a boy and a girl, upon the edge of an enchanted lake filled with mermaids and naiads waiting to lure them into their depthless dwellings; a darkened forest surrounding them, brimming with satyrs and lesser gods; tempting them with melodies coaxed from pipe and lute. Urging them to live; really live; to dare to love.

"No," he stated flatly.

The light dimmed in her eyes as they dropped, her body deflated, as her hope in him shriveled; her hands fell to her sides; a frozen sea separated them suddenly, too vast to traverse by any conventional means. But before she could turn away, and leave him firmly rooted to reason and logic, as cold and real as the mud he stood in, he reached out, and with one finger upon her wrist, halted her.

"I caught it for you. Look."

And by judging the position of where he stood against the partially hidden constellations above, he managed to tip it just in the right manner to show her the dark water in the bucket, filled to the very top, magnifying one star. It reflected sharply, twinkling vibrantly like a living diamond, a supernatural creature caught and tamed; a gift for her. It shimmered brightly as if he'd really done it. As though Donatello, master of all reason and science, lord of logic and clarity, skeptic king, had caught a falling star with his bare hands, in an old plastic bucket, just for her. To wish upon whenever she liked, for the rest of her life.

The laugh erupted from her, like breathing after nearly drowning. The sound: relieved, happy and full of surprise. Donatello's gentle smile stole across his face, as though to tell her to never doubt him. April reached out and took his hand, clasping it tightly in her own. Together they headed back to the fire, hand in hand. Donatello's easy strides belying the fact that his knees were quaking with each step and his heart galloped painfully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Again, I would not be here, writing these stories if it weren't for all you wonderful readers; leaving reviews, following, favoriting, sending me notes, just, you guys/gals are all amazing. Thank you. I'm so lucky - you've helped me get through some dark stuff - some sad stuff and I bet you didn't even know it! But writing and posting and hearing from you is just what I need to get through all that junk. This is my happy place. :)
> 
> The amazing authors also continue to thrill me and inspire me. Theherocomplex is just one of many. I hope you do check out her series, I don't think you'll be disappointed. Until next chapter! xo


	7. Illuminations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikey can't sleep, Raph and Casey play an intense game of uber-checkers and Donatello explains what makes fireflies light up...April is only interested in Donnie's glow.

**Chapter 7 – Illuminations**

* * *

Upstairs in the cabin, Leonardo finished brushing his teeth and stepped into their shared sleeping quarters. He frowned as he noticed a large mound in the center of his bed, under the cotton blanket. He looked around and made a guess.

"Mikey," he said.

The mound remained still. He approached it and fought the urge to tear the blanket from him, sensing, instead, his little brother's apprehension in the air. He stooped and caught one corner of the blanket and lifted it enough to peer beneath. Sure enough, his brother was there, curled in a ball, eyes closed, feigning sleep. Leo sighed.

"Why are you in my bed?"

Mikey made obvious pretend snoring noises in reply.

Leo dropped the blanket. He made an irritated sound. "Mikey, I'm tired. I want to go to sleep."

The snoring grew louder.

"Fine, I'll just sleep in your bed," he said as he turned, but stopped short with wide eyes as he noticed the rumpled messy blankets and chocolate stains that he initially mistook for something else before his sensitive nose caught the tell-tale aroma of cocoa. His shoulders slumped. When he turned around, Mikey was sitting up. The blanket over and around his head and body so that only his face showed.

They both spoke at once, "Mikey, your bed's disgusting." "Can I sleep with you?"

"What? No. No way. You made a mess in your bed and there is no way I'm letting you do that to mine."

Mikey's eyes took on the pleading puppy-dog-look. Leo crossed his arms and gave him a sardonic smile.

"That doesn't work on me."

Mikey dropped his eyes. Said in a quiet voice, "But I'm scared."

Leo unfolded his arms and stepped to the end of his mattress. He sat down. "What do you mean, you're scared?"

"Shhh! Not so loud, or Raph'll hear you!" Mikey hissed angrily, glancing at the empty doorway. He chewed on his lip for a moment then explained, "That story Master Splinter told. It was super creepy." He shuddered.

"But you love horror movies," Leo said, still trying to understand and failing.

Mikey shook his head. "Those are fake."

Leo blinked and digested what Mikey said. They sat staring at one another in the dark room. Mikey's eyes round and definitely holding a glint of fear, now that Leo looked closer. He sighed.

"Fine. It's not real, by the way. But it's fine. Sure." Leo stood up as Mikey bounced on his knees in the center of the bed. Leo moved his hands in a shooing motion. "Head to toe. Stay on your side. And don't kick me."

"I don't kick in my sleep."

"You used to always kick me in the face when we were little."

Mikey curled himself around his teddy bear and pillow, snuggling into a ball on one side near the foot of the bed. "Nuh-uh."

Leo moved to his side and fluffed his pillow twice before laying his head down. He closed his eyes, feeling his tired body sink into the softness. Feeling himself start to drift.

"Leo?"

Leonardo's eyes popped open. He frowned. "What?"

"Thanks, bro."

"It's fine. Goodnight."

"I think Raph's scared too," he said as he rose up to sitting. Leo pulled his pillow over his head and groaned. "He just won't admit it." Mikey's eyes narrowed. "I bet any money he is. Casey said he was shaking."

Leo slapped his arm down onto the blanket. "Mikey, it doesn't matter. Who cares. I want to sleep. Go to sleep."

"Okay. Sorry."

The bed creaked as Mikey settled again. Leo's eyes remained open for a few minutes after, burning and staring, until the lids grew heavy and slowly closed.

"Where do you think a monster like that would hide?"

Leo groaned.

Mikey added quickly, "Master Splinter could take it."

"Yes, Mikey. You know what?" Leo braced himself up on one elbow. He twisted and looked over his shell at his little brother who was as wide-awake as ever. "I know for a fact that Master Splinter would kill anything that tried to hurt us."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"He is pretty strong."

"It's true," Leo agreed, hoping he finally calmed his brother's nerves down enough for them to get some rest.

"Anything?"

"Anything."

Mikey fell quiet then and shimmed back into his place on the mattress. Leo lowered himself down. His head flopped against his pillow.

"What if it was a misunderstanding? What if it was a case of mistaken identity? I mean, how would he know? Don't all pigs look the same? OOF!" Any further questions were cut short by a pillow flung into his face. "Sorry! Sorry, Leo. Going to sleep now."

"THANK YOU."

The brothers nestled into their respective spots and fell quiet.

"But –"

"Mikey, I swear to god, I will tie you to a tree and pour honey over you so that bears eat you in the night if you don't shut up and go to sleep NOW."

"Eep. 'Night, Leo."

# # #

Donatello entered the cabin followed by April, who up until a moment ago, had been holding his hand. As she released him, he clenched his fist, capturing the lingering warmth, the feel of her, reluctant to allow the warmth of her to dissipate too soon. Still feeling the giddy light-headedness of his earlier save. He may not believe in all the things that April did or even wanted him to, but he could show her that being of a logical mind didn't indicate that he was boring or unfeeling, or unromantic. At least, he hoped he could prove that to her.

She moved around him and promptly sat in front of the long low coffee table where Raph and Casey were in the midst of an extremely tense game of checkers. Both boys were leaning over the ends of the table, hovering above the board, bracing on their folded arms. There were only a handful of pieces left and each one was stacked tall by three or more chips.

Donatello stood behind April, hands on his hips, observing the mangling of an elementary game. "What are you . . . that isn't how you play."

"Shh, quiet," Raph waved his hand at him, just missing April's face as she ducked. He kept his concentration on the board. "Tryin' ta focus here, egghead." Casey's eyes were locked on Raph.

April twisted; smiled up at him with raised brows. Then said to Raph, "I never realized you had to concentrate so hard in order to play a game as simple as checkers."

Raph's face snapped to hers looking a mix of shock and hurt. Donatello sniggered.

"You blinked!" Casey said triumphantly and picked up one of the towers and made it slide three spaces diagonally, then jump over two of Raphael's stacked pieces. He gathered the toppled pieces with a swipe of his fist. "That's two left to my five." He shuffled the pieces between his fingers and palm, one hand over the other, smirking as they clacked together.

"That wasn't fair!" Raph grumped.

"Tough."

"I call interference." He pointed at April.

"Too bad."

Raph growled and then as April rolled her eyes and got up with Donatello assisting her, he flicked one of Casey's towers over with one finger.

"Hey!"

"Tch," Raph challenged. " _Tough_ ," he mimicked Casey's voice only giving it a nasally sing-song quality.

The next second the board was flung from the table and checkers flew through the air as the boys tackled each other, swearing in more and more creative combinations until they were choking with laughter and trying to outdo one another.

The back door screen squeaked as Donatello closed it behind them. April had settled on a wicker rocker situated in one darkened corner of the back porch and Donatello moved to sit in the adjacent chair. She opened her hand and held it out to him. He started and sat forward, taking her offered hand in his. She gazed at the surrounding grounds, alight with the glow of fireflies, vibrating with the sound of millions of stridulating serenades.

"You know about fireflies, right, Donnie?"

He blinked and dragged his gaze from studying her face to look at the sporadic phosphorescent display.

"You mean when oxygen combines with calcium, adenosine triphosphate and the chemical luciferin in the presence of luciferase, which is a bioluminescent enzyme, light is produced? Yes, I know all about that. Did you have a question about it?"

Her smile took on an edge of incredulous amazement. She worked to keep from giggling and Donatello's face reddened. "Uh, well," she started and brushed her fingers over her lips, looking out to one side.

He shifted in his seat. "That's not what you meant."

She shook her head and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. She tucked her legs beneath her and leaned closer to him over one armrest. She pointed out over the yard, turning her head, peering into the blue and silver shadowy night, punctuated by the intermediate chartreuse glowing.

"All those little fireflies are floating around, fluttering aimlessly through the dark . . . think about it . . . they have no idea if tonight will be the night that they find their mate at long last or if they will just," she moved her fingers through the air, "drift . . . all alone for another night. Lighting up in the hopes that she'll be out there. That the one meant for that little bug will see him and follow his light."

He considered her words. Gazed back out in the invisible current of lovesick tiny travelers. "I guess I never thought of it quite like that, no." From the corner of his eye, he saw her face move.

She licked her lips and slowly raised her eyes. Quietly, she said, "They sort of . . . remind me of you."

"Me?" he whispered. Dared to ask, "Why?"

Donatello's eyes bounced between hers. Her face was half-hidden in shadow. But her eyes stood out like two shimmering pools. Her lips highlighted by the yellow light creeping through the window from the cabin. A streak of blue-white lightning cut the sky horizontally, blotting out the fireflies' luminescence. For a few seconds, it was April in stark relief. Sculpted from light and dark, never more beautiful, the heavens' illumination serving only to compliment her loveliness. Incrementally, he leaned towards her. Listening for her answer, holding his breath in anticipation.

She reached out and swept her fingers and palm over his cheek to weave into one tail of his mask. She braced her wrist at his shoulder; stared boldly into his eyes as his heart raced. At once he felt himself roil with giddy disbelief, only tempered by the stubborn refusal of his mind to recognize that this was real. That this was happening. It seemed to think he was having a hallucinatory episode due to raised blood sugar levels and possible psychedelic properties of the lake water he'd been drinking the past six hours. Surely there were any number of potential bacterial components lacing that innocuous liquid. Possibly some that had yet to be discovered. Then there was the obvious potential for unexpected reaction due to the fact of his mutation. Not only that – His train of thought ground to a screeching halt as her face tipped while she gently brought his closer by pressing at the back of his neck. It felt as though the universe began tipping along with her as her lips parted and his eyelids fluttered closed.

"Because you shine so bright, I found you."

"Ohho, April," he breathed.

His lips met hers, hesitantly, soft and softer, then more confidently. Thunder rolled above them in tandem with another zip of lightning streaking the world in simple black and white. But it was nothing compared to the storm he felt inside. The roaring of his heart above all else. The single thought usurping all other logic and comprehension:  _April is kissing me._

His hands, clammy and unsure, remained on his lap; though he wanted to run his hands through her hair; to press her body closer to his; to simply stroke the side of her face. But he was afraid to move an inch; that any change might make this impossible dream evaporate. So he hardly moved. His body bent forward to bridge the gap between their two seats, head tilted at an angle, eyes closed. Reeling with the sensation. Her mouth on his. Lips so soft. Panting breath as she explored his mouth with hers. Sweetness and tenderness. His first kiss. It was beyond perfect.

The screen screeched and opened with a bang, separating the two. They collected themselves and sat back as Casey joined them out on the porch. He glanced over the yard then at them. April leaned on the opposite side of the rocker, away from Donatello, one arm braced against her mid-section, the other bent at the elbow, chin covered with the heel of her hand. Donatello sat with his hands in his lap, blinking down at his feet.

"Nice night," he said and turned to lean his backside against the railing of the porch.

"Where's Raph?" April asked.

Donatello looked at Casey, but hadn't found his voice yet. His heart had managed to leap into his throat, choking him into silence.

Casey shrugged. "Raiding the fridge. Want anything?"

April sat up and casting a fleeting glance at Donatello, who met it then swept his eyes away, said, "No thanks. I think I'm going to go to bed."

"Oh, you sure? I think Raph was going to make a dip." He scratched the back of his head. "But, I dunno how, we only have ketchup, mayo and some pickles."

"Goodnight," April said and hurried into the cabin.

Donatello stared at Casey for exactly eight seconds before he got up and followed April. He passed Raph on the way inside.

"Hey, Don, you want some –" Raph held up a bag of chips and a bowl full of something orange, smelling of pickles and ketchup.

Donnie gave him a half-smile, waved with a shake of his head, and hurried by.

"Your loss, man. I just made the best . . . ah, nevermind."

He stepped out onto the porch and sat down. Casey was rocking in a wicker seat. The floor boards creaked. He eyed the bowl of dip. Raph smiled. He handed Casey a chip.

"You made that?"

Raph nodded.

"Is it toxic?"

"Why would I eat something toxic?"

"Because you're a mutant."

"Ha. Ha. Doofus." Raph made a big show of dipping his chip and scooping out a large lump of the mixture, then popped it in his mouth, chewed thoughtfully and nodded satisfactorily. "It's good," he mumbled through his full mouth.

Casey tentatively swirled his own chip and then, giving Raph one more squinted look, threw it in his mouth. He munched it with eyes closed. He opened one and looked sideways at Raph who was watching him with a sort of sweetly hopeful expression.

Casey shrugged. "Ain't bad. Needs hot sauce."

"I saw some." Raph jumped to his feet.

"Yeah, bring that out." Casey glanced at the sky, then back at Raph, "Were there any olives?"

Raph shook his head. "But I think I saw pepper rings."

Casey smiled and grabbed the bowl. "Now you're talking."

# # #

April stood just outside her bedroom door, watching as Donatello hurried by Raph. She slipped into the hallway which led to the two adjacent bedrooms that were hers and Casey's. Donnie peered around the corner. His wide eyes searching, until he found her. He straightened up and cleared his throat.

"Uh, hi," he said. His fingers absentmindedly brushed his lips. He could still feel hers on them. Still sense their softness. He dropped his hands and fidgeted. "I just . . . w-wanted t-to . . . to uh, um," he fumbled, suddenly shy.

Nothing he thought to say of seemed right. Should he thank her for kissing him? Did that sound too desperate? Well, he was sort of desperate. He decided against gratitude, despite feeling awash in gratitude so deep, he had to fight the urge to drop to his knees in humble supplication. He glanced up at her and dropped his eyes to one side. He had to say something.

"Th-That was . . ."  _extraordinary – incredible – fantastic –_  "Uh, n-nice."

"Yeah," April agreed, standing just outside her bedroom door, one hand resting on the frame.

He stood there, nodding, a twitchy smile breaking out over his face. He could not help it as a breathy giggle broke from him. He was suddenly a woozy mess. Embarrassment hit him, but before it could take root and ruin the moment, he noticed her expression, smiling so bright, practically glowing. She gave him a tiny wave of her fingers and moved to go into her room.

"Uh, April," he ventured, gathering his courage.

She paused and peeked out from the doorway, now mostly inside her room.

"There was only ever your light . . . reflecting off of me."

April's face softened. She blew him a kiss. "Goodnight, Donnie," she said and closed her door.

"Goodnight, April. Sweet dreams."


	8. The Promise of Forever

 

"I know you want this," he murmured boldly despite the warmth rising in his cheeks. His fingertips trailed along the length of her jaw to her chin, tipping it back slightly. Her eyes were locked on his, steady and without challenge, but with an intensity that spoke of her hidden passion and need. He wanted to live there, in the glow of her affection, the light of her inner fire keeping him warm, so warm. Always.

"Leo," she pleaded with an exhale.

He watched her lips as she spoke, relishing the sound of his name in her mouth. He wanted her to repeat it; to hear it whispered over and over again, laced with yearning, matching his own.

"I-I do . . . but I'm afraid."

"Shh, I know."

Her forehead dipped to press against his. He closed his eyes and felt her body shift, bringing it closer; her arms over his shoulders, her fingertips brushing along the ridges of his shell, sending small ripples of delight through him. He held her; nuzzling into the side of her face and neck.

"I swear I will protect you," he promised. "Forever."

She gave a soft inhale of breath at his vow and melted into his embrace. Her head tipped back as he tilted his head and brought his mouth to hers. Their lips brushed, then parted. He closed his eyes and kissed her tenderly.

A loud giggle froze him in place; his eyes snapped open. He reared back. Karai blinked at him. Lips parted. She made no sign of derision or that the sound had even come from her, and yet, he was sure he just heard  _something_. He made a little cough in the back of his throat and hesitantly resumed kissing her.

It happened again. The bubbling giggle arose, too loud, too odd and out of place . . . too familiar, making him lurch back again.

"Karai?" he asked with a confused frown.

A bright flash of pain made him gasp and see stars. Something had just struck him square in the nose. Leo's eyes popped open. For a second he wasn't sure where he was. Something obscured his vision. He blinked and it came into focus.

He lay facing the large, rather flat, foot of his younger brother. Mikey's toes wiggled and the source of the giggling sound was soon revealed. Leo's mouth dropped open as he realized what he'd just been kissing in his sleep. The sweetly pungent scent coming off the pad of Mikey's foot overwhelmed him – worst yet was the taste of it on his bottom lip - he gasped in horror and flailed; releasing Mikey's leg, hugged tightly in his arms, and kicked out violently until his brother flipped over the side of the bed from his wild thrashing. He rolled in the opposite direction and jumped to his feet.

_"GAH! GUH! OHHO GOD! UHCK!"_

Mikey's head rose up from the side of the bed. "What happened?" he asked in a groggy voice and rubbed his eye with one fist.

Leo was hopping and bouncing in place. He pulled the end of his blanket from the bed and used it to wipe at his tongue and mouth. "URGH! Oh god! Why do I still taste it!?" He gave Michelangelo one desperate look before he dropped the blanket and sprinted from the room.

Mikey stood up, teddy bear tucked under one arm and stretched. "Well, that was weird. Must've had a nightmare." He held the teddy out in his arms and spoke to it, "I guess not everyone can have dreams of being tickled by jelly fish."

He tossed his bear onto his bed and headed downstairs. On the last step, he paused and sniffed. The warm scent of golden pancakes and sizzling sausage perfumed the air. His stomach rumbled. His eyes closed dreamily. He slid off the last step and floated into the kitchen on tip-toes. He stopped at the threshold to see his father making them breakfast.

"Whoa, Sensei, that smells amazing."

"Good morning, Michelangelo."

He straightened up. "Good morning! Hey, can I help?"

Raphael emerged from where he was half-shoved inside a cabinet. "Sensei, I don't see any more plates." He noticed Mikey, "Hey, bro."

Mikey waved. "Uh, I could check the van and see if April's dad brought any extra."

"He is in town with Casey," Splinter supplied and flipped a pancake by jerking the pan forward and back.

Mikey's eyes popped at the display and giggled. "Cool. You're like, a regular, Gordon Ramsey," he said and pointed to the pan.

Splinter cocked one brow at that. "Hm."

Raphael stood up, "Well, I guess we could just eat on paper towels."

"There is a supply closet in the cabin I share with Mr. O'Neil. Perhaps there are extra kitchen supplies within. Go and see what you might find."

Mikey left the room and Raphael moved to follow when he stopped, peering out the back screen door. April was sitting on the grassy rise near the lake. He turned his head to see Donatello making his way hesitantly up to her, keeping in the shadow of the tree line beyond, stooping occasionally to add to the scrawny bundle of wild flowers in his fist.

"Uh, oh."

Splinter flipped the pancake. "Something the matter?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Uh, I dunno, maybe. Yeah," he sighed and looked at his father. "I think Donnie's about to make a fool of himself."

"Oh?"

"Sensei, you gotta talk some sense into my brother."

"Is that so."

He turned around and crossed his arms. He huffed. "Sensei, you know what I'm talking about."

Splinter poke a sausage and leaned over to adjust the heat. The sizzling and popping settled to a steady, low crackling. He shifted the finished pancake to the pile and poured more batter into the pan. Then he moved to stand next to Raphael, gazing out at his son as he still gathered flowers; April unaware of his approaching.

"See what I mean?"

Splinter twisted his head and regarded Raphael for a moment before speaking, "You think he is being inappropriate?"

Raphael's arms dropped. He blinked several times and frowned, "Well, no. Not really that. But, yeah, I guess he is," he changed his stance and put his hands on his hips, then dropped his hands again to his sides, he rubbed the back of his neck vigorously. "Yes. Uh, maybe."

"You seem unsure of where you stand on this."

His shoulders slumped. "Sensei. I just . . . April . . . she's our friend. But . . I dunno, I don't want to see him get hurt."

"Your fear is justified."

He brightened, "So, you'll talk to him? Talk him out of this?"

"No."

"B-But you just said that I'm right."

"I share your fear," he said glancing from April to Raphael. "I wish for none of you to experience harm in any way. Whether it comes from an outside enemy or," he pressed a finger to Raphael's chest, pointing to his heart, "from within."

"Then you  _will_  talk to him."

"No."

Raphael blew out a frustrated breath. "Sensei," he said exasperated, "it's never going to happen."

"Oh?"

"April cares about him, sure, but not like that . . . it . . . it's impossible!"

"So, you think your brother is foolish to pursue this matter with Miss O'Neil?"

"Uh, yeah," he insisted. "Pretty much. I mean, he's got no chance."

"Hm. You use words like impossible and no chance. And yet, you stand here, next to me, as real as the air we breathe."

Raphael frowned, "Wh-What?"

"Love, like life, is an impossible thing. And where there is life, there is always a possibility. To disregard that slim chance before there is any true attempt is what is truly foolish."

"B-But," Raphael started. "It won't last . . . even if she tries. I just don't think . . . It can't," he insisted stubbornly. "Master, sh-she's only going to end up hurting him."

Splinter blinked and gazed out at Donatello who seemed now to be hiding in the line of shadows rehearsing what he wished to say to the girl sitting on the edge of the lake, daydreaming of unknown things. Master Splinter smiled softly, perhaps not so unknowable. If what Kirby had spoken to him the other day was any indication of where her stray thoughts may be centered.

"Perhaps."

Splinter placed his hand on Raphael's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"But such a hurt is a tender bitter-sweetness, one that flavors a life well lived." His amber eyes roved over his boy, so sure of his brother's doom, so afraid behind the shield of his anger. So much like his younger self. "There is also the possibility, small though it may be, that they find something rare and lovely; something that lasts forever."

Raphael's face twitched and Splinter thought he caught the glimpse of the possibility hit home. His green eyes darted from the scene outside up to meet his. His voice was low as he asked, "Do you really think there's a chance for them? That there's a future there?"

Splinter shrugged and sighed. "You cannot map such a nebulous thing as love, Raphael. You cannot plan for it, nor shore up defenses to rally against it. You can only surrender and flow with the direction that it takes you. And the journey may be long or short, riddled with unexpected turns or stunted by challenges, but it is worth taking. Always. And I hope that one day, each of you may take that journey. When the time is right."

Raphael paled and shifted his feet. He ducked his head. "But . . . what about Casey? I think he might have feelings for her, too, Sensei."

Splinter considered this. "It is up to April to decide where her heart lies. No one else."

Raphael chewed on his cheek a moment and looked uncomfortable.

"I understand why you may be torn, my son. You are a good brother and a good friend. Loyal and compassionate. These qualities shine inside you, Raphael. But you worry too much over things outside of your control."

"I guess," he said, still unsure. He looked up with a pouting expression, "Love sucks, Master Splinter."

Splinter chuckled. "Do not worry, Raphael. Casey will recover, he is a strong boy and has many opportunities ahead of him." Splinter allowed that truth to sink into Raphael's mind. He could see the wheels turning in his son's mind. He glanced out the door at his brother. Splinter followed his gaze.

"As for Donatello, well," he stared out the window at his nervous child then back to Raphael who was watching him with a look of uneasy concern, endearing him to Splinter's heart even more, "he has his family to support him. No matter what happens."

Splinter pulled Raphael into a one-armed embrace which was returned but swiftly broken. For all his sensitivities, Raphael was not an affectionately demonstrative son. His mouth twitched as he added, "Just as you will have my support when that day inevitably comes for your own adventure with love."

His eyes were huge as he took a step back, hands up as if warding away a dangerous animal. "Uh, I . . . I think I'll just go . . . help Mikey find those dishes."

Splinter chuckled and turned back to the pancake in the pan, flipping it just before it darkened too much; catching it before it was burned.

###

The hardware store was nearly empty as Casey handed Mr. O'Neil two bottles of motor oil. The door chimed as an older man entered followed closely behind by a dark-haired teenaged girl in a hoodie and shorts. Casey caught her eye as she looked at him and then quickly ducked her head and scrambled to where her father stood in front of a stack of paint cans. He saw her glance over her shoulder above the low shelves at him to see if he was still watching her. He gave her a half-grin and just caught her smile as she turned back to answer something her father has just asked. She stuck her hands into her back pockets and bounced on her toes. Mr. O'Neil tapped Casey's elbow with a fly swatter. He jumped and turned, laughing.

"I think we should pick up a few, don't you?"

"Yeah, Mr. O'Neil, good idea. Though we may want to pick up a shotgun for some of those mosquitos. They're like, the size of drones out there!" He took aim with an imaginary gun but then straightened up with a blush spreading over his face as the girl from the other aisle walked by with her dad, glancing at him and then continuing on.

"Pretty," Mr. O'Neil murmured to Casey who stood staring.

"Uh, y-eah, heh," he laughed and rubbed the back of his neck.

Kirby added some matches to the pile in the basket hooked over one arm. "So, how's school, Casey?"

He shrugged, "Meh, all right, I guess. April's been helping me out in geometry, but I think I may have to repeat the course next year anyway." He sighed. "It's such a pain, but at least the coach is giving me a little leeway with my grades this semester."

"April's tutoring has been helping, though?"

"Uh, yeah. A lot. Except. I sort of freeze up with the tests and kind of forget everything she goes over with me."

"Hard to concentrate with her as your tutor?"

His blush came on hard and deep. "Well, uh, I dunno. Not really." He cleared his throat. "So, uh, speaking of . . . does . . . does she ever, uh, um, I dunno say anything about me?"

"Yes, actually, that you need to study more," Kirby laughed and Casey chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck again. Together they made their way up to the register. The dark-haired girl was still inside, lingering near the entrance, flipping through magazines while her father spoke to another man just outside the door. Casey froze as she looked up and gave him a smile. Mr. O'Neil stacked his goods onto the counter watching the teens from the corner of his eye.

"Hi," she said to Casey and fidgeted, shifting from one leg to the other.

Casey walked around to her. "Hey." He glanced out the door. "You vacationing up here, too?"

She nodded. "Yeah, my dad rents a cabin on Bear Lake. We come up a couple times a year."

He squinted and leaned against the counter. "You from the city?"

She nodded again. "Well . . . Kind of. Just moved from Jersey."

"Oh," Casey crossed his arms. "That's cool. You'll like the city."

"I think so. My name's Gabby. Uh, Gabrielle."

He smiled and gave her an appreciative nod, "Nice." He hooked a thumb at his chest. "I'm the one and only Casey Jones."

She laughed at that and his smile grew broader revealing the missing teeth. They fell into a slightly awkward silence. Behind him, Kirby chatted companionably with the owner about the weather and fishing prospects near the bigger lakes. Casey glanced at the magazine in her hands and started. "You into racing?" he asked with some surprise.

She laughed and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, that would be an understatement. More like, live and breathe it. My uncle is a driver. He's been in the Indy Car and Formula 1. He's training for the Speedway Grand Prix."

Casey gaped, "No way."

The door chimed and the girl's father called, "Let's move it, Gabby. Your mother and sister are waiting." He glanced at Casey and then sighed heavily as he let the door slam shut.

She rolled her eyes again and tucked the magazine back into the rack.

Casey huffed a nervous laugh and then blurted as she turned to go, "Uh, wait, uhm, can I . . . can I get your number?"

Biting the corner of her lip she nodded and twisted. She leaned over the counter and snatched a sharpie from the desk behind it. She grabbed his palm and scribbled out a list of numbers, writing it across his hand and then adding a 'x' and an 'o' at the end. He grinned as she bounced back, tossed the pen back in place and dashed from the store. He stepped forward and watched through the glass as she got into a red pick-up truck. He braced the written-on hand lightly against his chest as he saw her wave as they backed out and pulled away. Casey leaned forward to watch until the truck made a left and was gone from sight.

Kirby moved to open the door, two bags under his arms. "Looks like you've made a new friend," he commented lightly.

Casey nodded. "Yeah," he said absentmindedly and glanced once more at the number. He noticed the area code and brightened. "Holy crap! She's in our area! Maybe she'll be in our school. She said she just moved here from Jersey."

Kirby raised his brows. "That's good."

"Can I get, uh, Mr. O'Neil, can you tear off a piece of that bag for me?" he asked as he hopped into the passenger-side seat. "And do you have a pen?"

Kirby handed him the items. He watched Casey transfer the number to the paper and tuck it into his jeans pocket.

"So," Kirby started as he climbed into the driver's seat, "you wanted to know about April."

Casey sobered. "Uh, yeah. Yes."

Kirby stared forward for a moment, then glanced at him. "I think she has her sights on someone, son." Kirby looked at him with a steady expression and dropped his gaze. "I believe she's with him as we speak."

His face fell. He blinked rapidly. "Oh," he said as the full understanding hit him and shifted in his seat.

"Sorry to have to break it to you. But I'm a firm believer in being direct."

Casey shook his head, pinching his bottom lip between finger and thumb. He kept his gaze out the window but glanced at his palm and then resumed watching as Mr. O'Neil backed out and started down the street. After a bit longer, Casey sighed.

"I sort of knew she was crushing on the guy."

"Hm," Kirby said diplomatically.

Casey's eyes shot from him to the road back again. "But it's fine. You know. I'm not like, upset about it or anything. It's cool. I was sure I didn't stand a chance anyway," he added morosely. "He's like a genius from what Raph told me." He picked at a frayed hole in the knee of his jeans. "I'm just a dumb jock."

Kirby squinted against the glare of the morning sun coming through the windshield. "You're a good kid, Casey. Don't sell yourself short. Not over this. April . . . she's not one to dally over things. Once she makes up her mind, it's set. And I think she made up her mind a while ago. Your timing was just bad. Unlike this morning," he tilted his head to indicate Casey's hand.

Casey looked at it and breathed out a laugh. "Yeah, I guess."

"April won't stop being your friend, though. She's not like that. Once she decides you're a friend, she'll fight tooth and nail for you. Forever."

"Heh, yeah. She's stubborn."

"Don't have any idea where she might've gotten that from," he said and chuckled.

Casey grew serious again and rubbed his hands lightly against his legs. He blew out a breath. "No, but really. It's cool. I think, you know," he struggled a little but then seemed to resign himself, "as long as he treats her right. You know?"

"Yes." Kirby nodded. "I think he will," he cocked one brow, "but if he doesn't . . . you have my permission to kick his ass. After I do."

Casey guffawed at that. He wiped at one eye. "I may have to stand in line behind his brothers. They're all pretty protective over her."

Kirby nodded in agreement and turned onto the road heading towards the cabin. "I wouldn't want it any other way."

"Yeah," he laughed again, "Yeah. I'm lucky to have such great friends."

###

The warmth of the golden sunrise crept over her face. She closed her eyes and lifted her chin. Across the lake a pair of loons called; muffled and soft in the morning air. Steam rose from the edges where the water lapped gently against the rocky shoreline. The sound of it, a rhythmic lullaby. She cocked her head, listening to the world wake up. Her favorite time of day. This peaceful lull before reality asserts itself. When the sky is pink and night is a fading memory and the day is filled with every possibility. Ripe with potential. And full to bursting with lush anticipation.

 _I kissed him_ , she thought and dipped her chin as the memory awoke goosebumps across her bare skin. She smiled, cracking her eyes open just enough to make the world a glittering mass of indistinct speckles. The delight and excitement raced through her, making her tremble.

"Oh, a-are you cold?" came a sweet, tentative voice.

She twisted and squinted up to see him there, hovering over her, looking so incredibly sweet with his concern.

"I could run inside and get you a blanket. Or . . . or a sweater. If you . . . wanted."

She unfolded her arms over her knees and patted the grass next to her, shaking her head. He moved forward and lowered himself to sit cross-legged next to her. She noticed the flowers clutched in his hand and he seemed to suddenly remember he'd picked them. He held them out to her awkwardly.

"Uh, I got these, uh, for you. I thought you'd, uh, you'd like flowers. Girls like flowers. Generally speaking. Not that you're atypical of the gender. Erm, uh, what I mean to say is that, you're a girl. And these are flowers. For you," he finished lamely and wanted to jump in the lake and sink to the bottom.

She took them and lifted them to her face to sniff and hide her widening smile. She huffed a small laugh, "Thank you, Donnie."

He blushed furiously and jutted his chin a little, trying to cover his fumbling start to a conversation that he'd spent the entirety of the night practicing for. "It's nothing." He fidgeted and looked out over the lake. Several ducks came in for a splash landing, quaking loudly. April lifted her head to watch them along with Donatello. The sunlight gleamed and glittered across the rippling surface. He fought the urge to explain why ducks are so clumsy in their landings and when on solid ground.

The silence stretched between them and he felt the moment slipping by. It wasn't usual that he'd get a moment of privacy with April. His brothers would be up any minute now and the chance to talk to her alone would be gone. He gave her a sidelong glance. His mouth opened and closed.  _Say something, idiot_ , his mind demanded. His heart was suspiciously quiet as it thrummed in his chest.

"Ah, it's going to be nice today."

She nodded and he mentally face palmed.  _Not about the weather, moron. What did you practice all night for?!_

 _"April,"_ he croaked and cleared his throat, "I-I just . . . I wanted t-to . . . tell you," he swallowed and his eyes darted from the spot of grass he'd started to violently yank free from the earth to her wide eyes then back again. He made to smooth the grass down but all that was left was dirt. He arranged the ripped blades in a stacked pile to cover it. "Are you still okay with what happened last night?" he blurted and froze; eyes wide, staring at the pile of grass in front of his legs.

He saw her shrug from the corner of his eye. "What do you mean? Did something happen last night?"

His mouth gaped and he turned to look at her. She was watching the ducks but then tipped her face to look at him. Her seriously baffled expression only lasted for a few seconds before she broke down laughing. He sat rigidly as his mind processed what was happening. She was joking. Just playing with him. His cheeks burned and he ducked his head; a weak smile wavered across his mouth, but the corners turned down.

Suddenly a surge of hurt rose up within him, unexpected and strong. It gripped him by the throat and he couldn't breathe through the lump it formed in retaliation. He shot upright and took several large steps towards the tree line away from her. His chest heaved and his fingers clutched at the air as his hands balled into fists and released.

"Don? Donnie?" she called. "Hey!"

He looked everywhere as his eyes stung.  _What is wrong with me? It was just a little joke! Get it together, loser! She's gonna think you're completely lame!_

But he couldn't quite get a grip on the surging emotions. Maybe it was the fact that he'd been up all night trying to figure out what to say to her, vowing that he wouldn't mess this up, practicing how to bring it up and how to prepare himself for the possibility that it had all just been a mistake. A fluke. An error. Errors happened all the time. No matter how careful one was while programming. They can happen to anyone.

Or it could be that she just wanted to see what it would be like, kissing a freak. His eyes slammed shut as they welled.  _Oh god._  He jumped as he felt her fingers on his arm and laughed loudly; forced and ragged around the edges.

"G-Good one," he rasped through his panting breath. "Y-You got  _me_ ," he said and dammit all if his voice didn't catch and choke on the last word. He pinched his eyes closed and jutted his face from her. Everything he'd planned was being ruined because he couldn't take a simple, playful, harmless bit of teasing. Or . . . worse . . . it was true. What he feared. It was all a misunderstanding.

 _Oh leave it to me to take something innocuous and blow it completely out of proportion! I'm such a_   _Loser._

She wheeled around to stand in front of him. The flowers he'd given her still clutched in one hand as she took both his arms and slid her hands to his wrists. He fought the urge to shake her hands off him.

"Donnie, I'm sorry," she pulled on his wrists a little. "Hey, I didn't mean to tease about last night."

His head was bobbing at a dangerously fast rate. Enough to where it felt as though his head might snap from the root and go rolling into the lake. Part of him wished fervently that it would. Just to end this debacle.

"It's fine," he laughed, breathily and weak, "fine. It's . . . no . . . fine. I'm fine. I know you're only j-joking around, ha, ahah, ah. What happened?" he shrugged. "Nothing! N-Nothing to get worked up about, am I right? Ahaha, a kiss. So what, no big deal. You wanted to see what it was like . . . k-kissing some-someone like -"

_Was he getting hysterical? Oh god, SHUT UP! Nothing screams romantic like a hysterical nutcase losing his composure in the middle of an isolated camp ground._

When he focused on her expression, his mouth snapped shut. The look on her face was nothing if not complete and horrifyingly obvious pity. His stomach sank.

_Oh god, I'm right. That's why she kissed me. Oh god, kill me now! Where's a random meteor strike when you need one?_

"Donatello." Her voice was firm and authoritative. The voice she used when he wasn't paying attention to her when she asked him something and he was in the middle of working on something else.

He froze and licked his lips. He noticed he was shaking; couldn't stop. Knew she noticed as well. He closed his eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I . . . always take things the wrong way."

"It's okay," she said, sounding more relieved than anything. "Donatello, look at me."

She was still using his full name, so he knew she was still upset. And why wouldn't she be?  _I just made a complete ass of myself._  His shoulders slumped, but he obeyed. His throat bobbed as he swallowed.

"I had to tease you because of that question you asked me. Why wouldn't I be all right about last night? I've wanted to kiss you for so long, you have no idea."

He found himself staring at her mouth in a stupor, trying and failing to process what she'd just said. He shook himself. His mouth opened and closed a few times before words slipped from between his lips. "Can you repeat the last part?" he asked hoarsely.

"I've wanted to kiss you, Donnie, since the day you rescued my dad from that Kraang prison."

"W-Wait . . . since . . . since . . . that long?" He blinked and frowned.

She nodded. "I'm sorry it took so long for me to get my courage up."

Laughter bubbled out of him and his knees buckled. He staggered back.

April pulled at his arms to steady him with wide eyes. "Whoa! Don!"

He couldn't remain upright and his legs gave way. He sat abruptly down, pulling her along with him. She knelt next to him. Stared at him with a mix of worry and fear. He dropped his face into his hands and laughed harder. He dropped them into his lap and ducked his head. Still chuckling, he looked at her.

"I'm an idiot."

She shook her head.

"No, really. I think I may have patented a superior form of idiocy."

She hit him over the head with the blooms, then leaned into him, draping her arms around him to give him a hug. She pressed her face into the side of his neck. His hands went tentatively around her back. He rested his cheek against her head. He inhaled her scent and shuddered.

"I'm sorry for panicking, April. You mean everything to me. I was afraid and stupid and I'm just . . . not good at this."

She shifted to look him in the eye. "Well, you'll get better at being a boyfriend with time and practice. Just like anything else," she said simply.

"B-Boyfriend?"

She smiled. "Is that all right? To say that?"

He laughed incredulously and glanced around. "Is that all right?" he repeated breathlessly.  
"Am I being punked?" he asked the trees and the sky turning a shade of deeper blue. "Or is this a . . . dream?"

April pressed a kiss to his cheek and felt him tremble. "Did that feel real?"

He turned his face towards her, "Uh, maybe . . . but I think I could use more convincing." He mentally high-fived himself for the quick come-back. Maybe he would get better at this boyfriend stuff. He could only hope for both their sakes.

She smiled and pressed a kiss to his mouth that was gently returned. When she pulled back, his eyes were somber and serious and filled with a gleam of determination.

"Donnie?"

"I swear, April, If you . . . If you give me the chance. I'll . . . I'll do my best for you. Always. And . . . I promise," his voice lowered to a whisper, sincere and fervent, "I will love you forever."

Her smile lit up her face, and Donatello returned it. He pulled her close and kissed her with a heart full of promises and sincerity; hope and trust.

Someone cleared their throat and they jumped apart, spinning around on their knees and scrambling to stand in time to see Master Splinter standing on the back porch, two mugs in his hands, flanked by Donatello's brothers. Mikey stood beaming widely at them, one arm around Raphael's shoulders whose look of shock was quickly melting into something like wonder. Leonardo had his arms crossed but his soft smile could be seen, even as he ducked his head and pretended to stare out across the glittering water of the lake.

The van pulled up and two doors opened and closed. Casey ran around the back to get the groceries and supplies, calling loudly and unnecessarily that they were back. Kirby moved slowly around the front of the van, looking from the group gathered on the porch to his daughter standing next to Donatello. He spotted the flowers and shot a look at his friend. He just caught Master Splinter's sidelong glance of triumph; the tiny nod of approval that Kirby returned, flushed and grinning with happiness for his daughter and his friend's son.

Splinter turned back to the two standing awkwardly waiting for his reaction to what he no doubt had witnessed. He looked from Donatello to April. The stern look on his face smoothed. Master Splinter lifted his hand and beckoned them, calling out, "Breakfast is ready."

April glanced at Donatello as he exhaled in relief. He looked at her and blinked as he felt her hand snake around to clutch his. He squeezed her fingers and together they hurried towards the cabin.

"Thank you, Master Splinter," Donnie said in a hushed voice as he hurried inside, risking no glance at any of his family members. April on his heels, saying, "Thank you!"

Mikey looked at Splinter with no small amount of wonder, "Wow, they must be pretty hungry to be so grateful."

"Hm, indeed. Go inside, my sons. Eat while it is still hot."

The boys left him and soon were joined by Casey. On the porch, Splinter handed Kirby a mug of coffee and stood side by side next to the man, watching a flock of geese make their way across the expanse of the sky. Behind in the cabin, the sound of chatter and laughter rang out. Young and happy and free from stress or worry. Innocent and full of life.

"Well," Kirby said after a while. He lifted his cup to Master Splinter's. "Here's to all those impossible things coming to fruition . . . like catching stars." He winked.

Splinter grinned, his eyes sparkling. "To making a better fate for our children."

"I'll drink to that."

They tapped their mugs and drank; settling back into the rocker on the porch and listening to their children and relishing the golden morning so full of potential. Ripe with possibilities.

Full of the promise of forever.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all, my dear readers, those who reviewed and those who just gave this story a chance. I have come to fall in love with AprilxDonatello as a pairing and now that this story is complete, I will be focusing on my other ongoing tales. Be sure to follow me for all my updates, including stories set in 2k14 - my Domino story featuring LeoxKarai as well as the one shots circling around DonxApril as a pairing - it's a slow burn, but one that will be worth the wait!
> 
> Until then, see you in another story!


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